


A Dark Place Called Neverland

by Allswellthatends



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, F/F, F/M, Kidnapping, Modern AU, Multi, Neverland, Smut, insane!Peter, no magic, very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allswellthatends/pseuds/Allswellthatends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pan. Peter Pan. She'd heard stories, rumors, of the boy before. A criminal who hid away while his gang of underage lackeys did his dirty work. But never in a million years did Wendy Darling think he would push his way into her life, or more like drag her screaming into his.  </p><p>His obsession takes her on a whirlwind ride though a living Hell in a dark place the locals call Neverland. </p><p>Wendy has to learn how to survive a psychotic boy, an unusual captain and a magical stripper, just so she can make it home to her brothers and reclaim herself and her life. </p><p>TW rape/assault/dubcon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're a Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is the first chapter, it was just a little plot bunny that popped into my mind so I hope you like it.

Wendy walked the halls with her head down. She kept to herself with earphones keeping the obnoxious noise of high school out of her jumbled head. 

Advanced Placement Art History was her next class and she hustled through the door to find her seat in the back of the room. Music pounded in her ears, a soft and folky muse that kept her mind off the world around her. 

So fill to me the parting glass…

“Wendy?”

A voice pierced her inner thoughts. She looked up to see the whole class staring back at her, along with the teacher… what was her name, Mrs. Kay, tapping her fingers on one of the front row desks. 

“Yes?” She said meekly. 

“Would you like to join the rest of us?” The older lady asked annoyed. Why do teachers have to do that? She wondered as the other students giggled under their breaths, their eyes still tainted on her. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mrs. Kay I didn’t realize that class had started.” Wendy said looking down, turning off her music, and wrapping her earphones around her phone. 

“Maybe you should pay attention more.” She then mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, How is she graduating at 15? 

Wendy took out her notes and wrote rapidly, the only person able to keep up with Mrs. Kay’s spewing of information. The hour went quickly, as she let herself focus on the life of Van Gough, her personal favorite artist, and his beautiful technique. 

The bell rang and her peers stood to escape what they believe to be a dry and boring class. But she stayed for a moment and overlooked the textbook page of Gogh’s paintings, taking a moment to appreciate the fine art. 

“Hey, Wendy?” His voice was the second in an hour to spin her out of her inner thoughts. She looked up to see a boy from her class look down at her, she couldn’t remember his name, she’d only been here a few months. 

“Er… Hello.” She started to collet her things. 

“Sorry about Mrs. Kay, she can be a bit sharp, but she’s a really cool teacher.” He sat in the desk next to her. 

“I’m sure… Well, I have lunch to get to.” Her hands fumbled with her notes and she tucked her pen behind her ear. 

“I was just wondering if I could borrow your notes? I think I missed some things today.” He smiled and looked at her with a bit of a squint. 

“Are you trying to flirt with me? So I’ll hand my notes over to you?” She asked sudden confidence lacing her voice. As if you’re actually interested, I saw you staring at that blonde in the second row the entire class, no wonder you need my notes. She thought bitterly. 

“What? Um… is it working?” No name laughed. 

“No. Good day.” She stood and walked to the door, shoving her earphones in her head as she turned up the volume on some metal drowning song. Wendy felt him follow her down the hall for a second before he gave up. Her friends in Portland were few and far between, but she did have her brothers. 

The music led her down the hall and out the door, she walked down the wet, rain drenched street. Main had been nice to her family, they’d tried living in the country, but her mother had missed the city and energy of people. Her father had gotten a better job. And it had seemed that her brothers were fitting in with new friends in school. 

But Wendy found it hard to be around people, she was smarter than most of them and, in a non-pompous way, was ready for bigger people in her life. She rounded the corner to where her younger brother hung out with his friends, she found him easily. 

“John!” She called to the 14 year old hunched over a curious looking object. 

“Wendy!” He laughed. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just wanted to tell you to get Michael after school.” She hugged herself in the damp, early spring air. 

“Yup, fine, will do.” His friend handed him a joint and he took a hit nonchalantly. 

“John…” She tried for a moment to be a big sister.

“Don’t give me shit about this, Wendy.” He shot back instantly, giving her a look that could melt flesh. 

“I won’t.” She promised. Wendy knew how hard it had been for John ever since they left London. Which had been five years ago now, but she still missed it, and so did he. Michael was too young to remember their old life, but the older two missed it. John resented Wendy slightly too because she was going back in a year. 

Wendy had been pre admitted to Cambridge University for next fall, she was moving back to the UK and was going to live with their Aunt while attending uni as a 16 year old. 

“Just please remember, I’m skipping to go to the library.” And without a definite answer she walked away. 

The streets were pretty empty at this time of day, kids were in school, adults in work and the only others walking around were dropouts or deadbeats. So she kept her head down and music in as she walked quickly to the public library. She walked through the Elms St. door just as it started to rain. Her feet trotted up the stairs to her favorite floor and she scurried to the corner where her favorite books were hidden deep in the stacks. 

Wendy dropped her backpack and sat on the rough carpet, taking in the sent of the books, both old and new. The book she had started was dog-eared and fat comfortably in her hands as she opened to where she had left off. 

Page after page she sank into the world of the War of the Roses, her mind moving back in time to enrich itself in the history. Hours passed, she was comforted by the silence and the solid feeling of a large book in her hands. Sometimes she felt that books were the only solitary things in her life, they never changed or moved or left her in the dark. They were her everything. 

“That’s a thick book.” A devilish voice broke through her silence like a dam splitting. 

“What’s it to you, boy?” She snapped back, annoyed at the invasion. 

He smirked and sat next to her crossed leg. She looked at him with narrow eyes, he wore an old brown leather jacket, it had patches from repairs and hugged his thin form nicely. Dark green skinny jeans covered his long legs, which ended with worn, brown combat boots, and he topped it off with a simple white V-neck tee. Over all he was handsomely dressed, but his face is what interested her the most. This strange boy had a child’s face, it was young and carefree, with no sign of stress or pain. And everyone has pain, that Wendy knew, but she saw no trace of anything in his bright green eyes. Lively red hair obscured her vision as he dipped his head down to look at his phone, it was loosely styled, spiked and curled as if he had just ran his hand through it. 

“Just curious.” He looked up at her to catch her staring at him. She blushed slightly at his knowing smirk. “Do you like tales of brave knights and daring sword fights?”   
“This isn’t exactly a fairytale.” She said coldly, looking back at her book. 

“I bet you like Fairytales, Wendy Darling.” 

She snapped her head up and beheld him through wide eyes. “How the hell do you know my name?” 

“I know a lot about you, Ms. Darling.” His face was still plastered with that smirk. “Resident brit, genius who doesn’t have any friends. Leaving next year, so no interest in making any.” He said nonchalantly as he kept her eye contact. 

“Could you leave? Now.” Her eyes tried to hold in the tears that she felt brimming, pushing to fall. Wendy wanted to say something back, to scream that she had plenty of friends, but she didn’t and that was reality. 

“Come on now, I’m trying to talk to you. This is how you make friends.” He put a hand on her knee, she looked down at his long fingers resting on her jeans. It made her uncomfortable. 

“I’m just fine without, thanks. And who are you anyways? I haven’t seen you in school.” Her book nudged his hand off her. 

He laughed out loud. “That’s cause I’m not in school, I dropped out a few years back, the moment I turned 16.” Wendy’s eyes went wide at his proclamation. “Oh and my name is Peter, Peter Pan.” 

“Well I’ll have you know, Mr. Pan, that I do not wish to be graced by your delinquent company. Good day.” She stood, grabbed her raincoat, her backpack and her book. As she ran a hand through her light, chestnut hair, he stood and towered next to her. Wendy took a last look at his wicked grin and spun on her heel to walk down to the stairs. She felt him follow behind her quietly. How the hell does he walk so bloody quiet? Her mind asked harshly. Night had come already and she looked out across the street, wondering if she should get a cab home or just walk. 

“It was good to meet ya, Wendy.” Peter’s voice sounded from her left and she saw him walking backwards down the sidewalk before he turned on his heels and rushed down the street. 

Wendy hailed a cab and got home safely, opening the door of the townhouse and sneaking inside. She scampered up to her room silently and raked her fingers though her long hair as she sat on the bed. 

“Hey, Wendy.” John’s voice resonated through the silent room, startling her momentarily. 

“What is it, John?”

“Where were you?” He asked sitting next to her and lying back on the bed. 

“The library. I told you that earlier.” She snapped, not wanting to deal with anyone right now. Peter Pan had drained her of any social effort. 

“Oh, right. Sorry about that, sis.” He patted her back. “You seem off, eh? What happened?” She tensed at his spot on question. Damn brothers and intuition. 

“A boy teased me, he found my spot in the library and sat down and teased me. It was infuriating.” She vented falling back on the bed next to him and staring at the ceiling. 

“Who was it?”

“Peter Pan.” She scoffed the name. 

“What?” He shot up and stared at her. “Did you just say Peter Pan? As in Pan?” John’s eyes were wide and almost frightened. 

“Yes, what’s the matter?” She asked sitting up with him. “John?”

“Do you know who Peter Pan is?” He asked frantically, taking hold of her shoulders. 

“Er, no. Should I?” Wendy asked a bit worried about the look on her younger brother’s face.

“Peter Pan is the leader of the most wanted gang in Portland, everybody at school is always talking about them. The Lost Boys is what they call themselves. Some people say he burned down the home for boys when he was ten and ran away, taking other orphan boys with him. They formed this group, gang type thing and now they steal and deal stuff and the law really wants them.” He took in a big breath after spewing so much information. 

“So what you’re saying is that I talked with the leader of a gang of little boys?” She let out a little laugh. 

“No, it’s a network, there’s the main bunch, yeah, but the guys at school said that he has up to a hundred boys under his command. They fight mostly with this other gang, that’s made up of adults and stuff. They’re the Pirates, and they’re led by this twenty something year old named Hook…”

“Whoa, John. Stop. This is all nice and stuff, but I’m pretty sure you can’t trust what those potheads say about everything.” She stood and grabbed his hand ushering him from the room despite his protests. Wendy fell back on the bed and kicked her shoes off, she took off her shirt and snuggled under the covers until sleep took her. 

A light tapping on her big, bay window stirred her sleep, she thought it was just the trees outside, and then she remembered that they live in a city and there are no trees. As she turned to see what was hitting her window she heard it open and recognized the clunk of feet hitting the floor.

Her heart froze as she held her breath. There was a stranger in her room and she didn’t know what to do, her phone was downstairs and her parents were out of town. But John was home, but she couldn’t put him in danger. So Wendy flipped the covers off and swung her feet off the side of the bed. She had her back to the intruder as she lunged for the door, with a few soft footfalls a slender hand flattened on the wood and slammed it shut before she could open it any wider. 

“I would try anything else if I were you, Miss Darling.” Peter’s dark voice washed over her back, sending shivers down her spine. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered, twisting out from under him and rushing back into the room, her back to the window.

“Can’t you take a joke, Wendy? Friends joke, you know.” He smirked and leaned up against the door, his arms crossed lazily as he eyed her. 

“You.” She pointed at him, an incredulous look crossing her face. “Boy, what the hell are you doing here? And how the hell did you get into my room or know where I live for that matter?” She spit out as her heart raced. 

“I followed you.” He said looking strait at her, amusement tickled his lips into a small smirk. 

“Get out. Now.” Her voice quavered at his intense gaze. But she moved out of the way so he could easily get out the way he came. 

“If that’s what you want.” He chirped as he strolled to the window. But before stepping out onto the ledge he turned and stared at her.

“Why do you do that?” She asked annoyed, he blinked surprised and took a tentative step towards her. 

“Do what?” 

“Stare at me, it’s rude.” Wendy crossed her arms and stepped back until her shoulders leaned against the wall. 

“I appreciate things and if I stare enough sometimes…” He closed the gap between them quickly and placed his hands on the wall behind her, his face only inches above hers. “I appreciate them enough that I’ll want them so I can… appreciate them some more.” 

“Boy, you’re scarring me. Please, leave.” She looked down to see if there was room for her to squeak by him and to fresh air again instead of the minty, slightly smoke scented breath that floated across her face with each exhale from him. 

“Come with me.” He whispered into her ear. 

“Get out.” 

“Come on Wendy Darling, come with me.” He kissed her neck, right under her ear. 

“Get out.” She shoved at his chest and he stumbled backwards. “Now.” 

“That was a mistake, Miss Darling.” He said darkly before jumping though the window and out into the night. 

“You’re a mistake.” Was all she could think of for a comeback. 

She spent that Saturday in the townhouse as her brothers went out and about with their friends, Michael was picked up for a play date and John was meeting some of the no good potheads from school in the park down the street. 

Wendy took the day to get some chores done, she finished the laundry that had been sitting in the washer since her parents had left, she got all the dishes done and put away. She vacuumed and dusted the whole house, leaving her exhausted by noon. 

The house was quiet and the doors were all locked before she let herself into her room and laid down on the fluffy bed. Before she could even get under the covers sleep enveloped her. The combined stress of the night before and the work of cleaning the whole townhouse had left her starved for sleep. 

Her mind dreamt of the drizzles in London and the smell of lilies in the small pond by her old home, she danced on the water and sang old folk songs her grandma had taught her. Wendy slept soundly for two hours before she opened her eyes to peer at the clock. 

“In bed at 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday? Oh my Miss Darling.” A familiar voice trailed fear through her veins.

Wendy shot up from her pillow and stared at the boy sitting cross-legged at the foot of her bed. The window was open and the clouds covered the sky, she felt the chilled breeze rush through her room. 

“What the hell, boy! Get out of my room!” She stood quickly and went to grab his shoulder, but he swatted her hand away gently. 

“Do not touch me without permission.” He hoisted himself up speedily, his hand twining around her wrist. 

“Then get the fuck out of my room before I call the cops!” She screeched at him, ripping her hand away.

Peter smiled at her, he walked back to the window, his movements were fluid and precise, like a predator and just watching him take each step made Wendy shiver. “I’m here to offer again, Wendy. Come with me! I like you, and I think it could do you some good.” 

“Fuck off.” She hissed waiting for him to leave. A deep horror brewed in her belly, a primal fear of this boy with no rules. 

“Now, now. You don’t have to be so volatile. I want you Wendy, and I get the things I want.” She watched as his eyes darkened into a green storm, a dark swamp full of a creature she didn’t understand. 

“Too bad I’m not a thing, boy.” 

He took two long steps towards her, god his legs were long, and before she could react he struck her right across the face, his palm made quick contact with her cheek, causing her to stumble sideways and grope at the contacted area. 

“What the fuck! Get out!” She screamed as tears started down her now swollen cheek. 

“I told you I get what I want! Didn’t I warn you? I gave you the chance more than I should have to come willingly.” He laughed menacingly, grapping her upper arm roughly, his fingers easily wrapping around it, and dragging her through the bedroom door and into the hallway. “But since your judgment is clouded it seems I’m gonna have to just take what’s mine.”

“You bastard! I’m not yours!” Wendy’s throat clenched as she tried not to cry or show him fear, that’s what you’re suppose to do right? Not give them the power. He pulled her down the stairs and whipped out his phone quickly to send a text. 

“Please just let go, I won’t tell anyone.” Her last attempt at a plea fell on deaf ears. 

“NO!” Peter’s hand struck her again on the other cheek and he let go of her so she could fall into a crying heap on the ground. “Wendy, dear. Your life is going to be filled with new adventures now. With me.” She felt his fingers, strangely gentle on her waist as he hoisted her up and wrapped a possessive arm around her middle, hugging her to him. Bile raised in her throat at the close contact. Sweet Jesus, no please god, no. Her inner voice prayed. 

Peter’s phone buzzed and before she could protest again he was pulling her to the front door. 

“Make one sound and I’ll come back for one of your brothers.” He threatened with a smile in his voice, causing her chest to wrack with sobs unfathomed before that day. 

A car was waiting and she tried to block out the screaming in her head as he opened the door and shoved her inside. That’s the problem when there are people in the world that you love, others will find a way to use that against you. 

And she damn well knew he had found a way.


	2. Have it Your Way

Wendy winced as his long fingers curled around her arm once more to drag her from the dank backseat of the old Subaru. She knew that there would be bruises on her pale flesh come morning.

            “Come on, Wendy Darling.” Peter’s voice hissed as she stumbled behind him like a child’s plaything.

 

            “Peter?” A young voice asked from behind them.

            “What, Tootles?” He stopped and spun them around. Wendy hung in his grip next to them. Every time she had made a noise in the car Peter had struck her. She had a cut across her lip and nose, broken skin on bone all over her face. Blood seeped out of the wounds slowly trailing down her exhausted face.

            The other boy eyed her with pity. “I mean… Peter… we do a lot of things… we steal and deal drugs and we fight for our territory… but kidnapping?” He took a step towards Peter hesitantly. “Peter, kidnapping is a whole new game? We don’t know how to deal with ransom or any of that stuff.”

            “And who said I was going to ask for ransom?” Peter pulled her into him, letting go of her so she no longer had him to balance her. Wendy crumbled to the ground, her face dragging down the side of his leg. “Maybe I just want to keep her.” His foot kicked her stomach and she spit up a little gurgle of blood.

            “Peter… I… have to um…” Tootles started before Pan shot him a dark look.

            “I want her broken. I want her to come crawling to me and beg me to protect her. Get the twins… and Tink.” He hissed turning quickly and leaving her there in the ally way. Tootles nodded and pulled out a burn phone.

            Wendy couldn’t hear what the boy was saying to the person on the other side of the line. She just waited and let the rubble of the concrete dig into her cheek. Pain radiated through her face and neck, she had never been struck before in her life let alone beaten bloody. A part of her wanted to just curl up on the cold, hard ground and die. Let it be over and not worry about Pan anymore. But when chubby arms lifted her up a little she let those thoughts go.

            “Now, lets get you inside.” Tootles said lightly, pity still soaked in his eyes. He lifted her and she leaned into this heavy little boy. His light blondish hair was dirty and unwashed, he smelled like cookies, like a bakery or something comforting. She followed his lead and they moved inside a door in the ally way, before they closed it she swore she could hear the crash of waves on rocks.

            The room was dark, it smelled of rubber and had a bunch of covered machines in it, everything was covered with white sheets, much like an old, abandoned house. He helped her lean up against one of the sheathed masses and she sunk onto the grimy floor.

            “What is this place?” She asked quietly, not completely confident he would hesitate to strike her.

            “Welcome to Neverland, sweets.” A female’s voice answered before Tootles could, it was high and raspy, as if she’d just finished a cigarette. Wendy watched a tall, blonde dynamite walk towards her in the dim lighting. She was at least 5’8’’ and she wore five-inch heels to top that off, her waist was miniscule, as tiny as Wendy thought a person could be and she wore a tightfitting, green dress to show off her marvelous hips. Her hair was bright blonde, and her eyes a piercing green that looked intensely into Wendy’s.

            “I thought you rascals called yourselves the Lost _Boys._ ” She hissed at Tootles.

            “Yeah, we do. Peter… uh… he…”

            “He wanted a whore.” She finished the thought he could not.

            “I’m not a whore.” Wendy said, using much of her strength to look up at the woman.

            “Sure you’re not, sweets. I’m Tink.” She reached out a hand to Wendy who just started at it.

            “Peter wants her broken.” Tootles said, turning as he heard the door clang open. Two huge boys walked in, the twins, and stood on either side of Tink.

            “Well, Peter gets what he wants.” The lady turned to the two boys and said something to them that Wendy couldn’t hear. “Is she a virgin?” Tink asked Tootles, who nodded.

            “Okay then don’t touch her there.” Tink’s head motioned at one of the boys, who moved quickly to Wendy, tugging her up by her wrists and tying them to a bar above her head. Her feet barely touched the floor. Panic rushed through her veins as the boy positioned himself in front of her.

            The first blow hit her in the lower stomach, pushing the wind from her lungs. She breathed in again only for the next blow to hit her higher and make her cough out her air. _Why? Why god? Why me?_ She asked the dead air as blow after blow it her, she slammed her eyes shut and tried not to think about the searing pain in her abdomen and chest. After what seemed like an eternity the strikes stopped and she let herself open her eyes to see the woman standing in front of her.

            “Have you had enough, sweets?” Tink asked kindly, pushing some of Wendy’s soiled hair from her face. She ripped her head away from the touch and spit on the ground. No. Wendy Darling does not give in. She breathed, she could take it.

            “Have it your way.” The other boy said as he stepped forward with a riding crop. Tink undid her shirt and opened it so the girl’s stomach was exposed to the dank air. Wendy sucked in her breath as tears fell from her cheeks, oh no. Not this thing.

            The first hit ripped a cry from her lips, the second a scream and the third a plea pouring between her sobs. Tink ignored it, smirking slightly as Wendy begged for mercy. Pain enveloped her senses, as if nothing on earth could be worse than that moment, everything throbbed and ached and screamed. Every muscle cried for death.

            “PLEASE, PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT JUST MAKE IT STOP!” Wendy cried out, her bravado failing.

            “Stop.” Tink put her hand up and moved in front of the boy, she shoed them away and took Wendy’s face in her hand. The girl winced as Tink squeezed her cheeks together. “Now, sweets, you’re not in the nice part of town anymore. There is no escape from Neverland, and you belong to my boss. Are we understood?”

            “Yes, yes, please. Just make it stop.”

            “Oh, you poor girl. It never stops.” 


	3. Blue is a Nice Color on You

**Chapter 3**

They dragged her through the abandoned building. Her legs scratched on the worn floors digging more malicious incisions into her already battered thighs, her arms felt as if they were on the brink of being ripped from the sockets from the iron grips pulling her forth.

            "Where did Peter want her?" One of the twins asked Tink. His voice sounded like daggers in Wendy’s oversensitive ears, blood still pounded through her head and limbs, jolting her with pain every other second.

            "To the tree." She said with a snippy look at the brute. The one boy tugged at her, she refused to respond, he huffed an aggravated sigh before yanking her, eliciting a sharp cry from her chapped lips. She felt the hand drop her arm before she crashed into the cement floor, she didn’t even have the strength to push herself up. Tink tsked and nodded her head at the large boy, who without question lifted the frail girl into his arms and carried her down the hall behind the swaying hips of the tall woman. Wendy's head bobbed as she watched them near a doorway that led to a black room.

            "You can go back to whatever you were doing. We've gots it from here." The lady hissed at the other twin. He nodded in compliance and walked away.

            They walked through the doorway and came to a very large room filled with play equipment resembling that of a forest wonderland. In the center of the amphitheater was a giant tree surrounded by webbing for climbing. There were makeshift, wooden stairs leading up to a carved out entrance in the dense plastic of the tree, a light shone from within it.

            "Here we are, sweets." Tink said to her, leading the way into the horror.

            "TINK? IS THAT YOU I HEAR?" Peter's voice filled the large room from the doorway, Wendy winced at the sound, it sounded happy, joyful, as if he was celebrating something.

            "Yeah, Peter. And I come baring gifts!" She squealed as she strutted into the circular room, which housed a few old couches, a dirty rug, a little kitchen and a table. The oddest thing, that Wendy wasn't quite sure if it was her imagination or real life, was Peter sitting in a large, gaudy throne.

            The twin dropped her on the ground and she hissed as her shoulder made contact with the hard floor, luckily a there was a carpet to soften the fall. Peter's eyes watched her from his seat as Tink sat comfortably in his lap. Wendy could see in the woman's eyes that she loved him; she loved that maniac on his thrown, the way her eyes danced as she overlooked his face and how her hand ran easily through his hair in such a gentle, loving fashion. It was text book love. But Peter paid her no attention, he simply watched Wendy. She lifted her chin, a challenge. He raised his eyebrow, and snapped his fingers, prompting another wince from Wendy.

            Suddenly everyone in the room stood and started to leave through the crude opening. The boys all looked slightly pitiful as they scurried past her, a few even stopping quickly to offer her a slight smile, and out of the makeshift fort. Tink stayed on Peter’s lap until he cleared his throat and nodded his head towards the doorway. She looked at him with an annoyed expression and then at the bloody girl on the floor and then back at him before standing and walking to the doorway with her chin held high. She looked down at Wendy as she passed her, with a look of slight disgust on her face, but also with a flash of curiosity. Her frigid fingers undid a tie that held an old curtain up and she let it swing behind her as she walked out, her hips swaying with confidence, effectively leaving the two of them alone and cut off from the outside world.

            Peter stood; he was wearing a new pair of skinny jeans, perfectly formed to his thin legs and a grey v- neck Henley, the leather jacket hung on the side of the throne in a place of honor. He mussed a hand threw his effortlessly tousled hair before walking towards her confidently and rolling up his long sleves. She naturally recoiled and gasped as a new pain radiated threw her calf. His face was unreadable as he turned and headed to the small kitchenette, she watched him as he wetted a dishrag and turned back towards her again.

            She tried scooting herself against the wall, but her wrists were too bruised from being hung up that she couldn’t put any pressure on them without boughs of hot pain coursing through her already aching arms. He set the bowl he had filled with water and the cloth on the side table before striding over to her and leaning down ever so slightly so he sat on his heels.

            “Come here, Wendy Darling.” He said softly leaning in towards her, his bright green eyes peering at her with a childish wonder. Wendy’s face twisted in horror and she started to pull herself away from him, he laughed slightly before smoothly scooping her up in his gangly arms and setting her down, strangely gentle on one of the ratty couches.  His long fingers brushed away her blood-matted hair from her sweaty brow before he trailed them down her cheek, she withdrew from his touch and he dropped his hand to reach for the cloth, but refused to loose eye contact.

            The warm water felt heavenly on her bruised skin, he started with the cuts on her arms, from the whipping, and worked his way down to her wrists, she could help but sigh as the soft cloth leached away some of the stinging pain. Large hands circled her tattered wrists that bruised and bled from the abuse of the ropes, he cradled them gently as he dapped the cloth on the marks, she tried to watch his expression, but it was unlike anything she had ever seen on a young man. It was too boyish, too childlike, as if he hadn’t ordered the vary abuse he was tending to. A small rage filled Wendy at his kindness, being thrown in a prision cell, being raped, being treated like scum is what she expected, what she could handle. This… this kind young… boy. This she didn’t know if she could handle.

He looked up at her and smiled meekly, he was sitting on his heels and his hair had fallen into his eyes a little. One hand still encircled her wrist as the other went to brush his fiery locks back from his face.

“You know you’re much better at this than most of em.” He said quietly, his eyes scanned her abused features, a single finger reached to trail her exposed collarbone. “I think it’s because you’re a girl, we don’t have any other girls around here. Only Tink, but she’s different. Girls are tougher, I think it’s because they have to grow up quicker. Not us boys, aye? We get to stay rascals for almost our whole lives.” His finger traced her veins and followed them up the hollow of her throat. Wendy held her breath. “Were lost, us boys. That’s why we call ourselves that, the Lost Boys. I found most of them, on the street or runaways. I raise them. They’re my lost boys. And you can be my lost girl, Wendy. My little lost girl.” She shivered as he laughed and ran his fingers through her hair near her ear.

“I’m not your anything.” She coughed out, jerking away from the strangely intimate touch.

“Oh, Wendy Darling, you are mine.” He moved his hand back to cradling her skinny wrists. “You’re my little girl. I wanted you, and I get what I want.” His eyes turned dark for a moment, sending a shock of fear through her veins. “You see, being the leader of the Lost Boys comes with some perks, I don’t have to share and I get whatever I want. Haven’t you ever wanted something before?” He asked with a sudden intensity in his gaze.

She looked passed him, unsure of how to react, unsure if the question was rhetorical or not. “I… er… yes. I guess.”

“No, I mean like really wanted something?” He pushed, his face was so young, his expression as if he hadn’t passed a day over twelve, his hands had moved from cupping her wrists to holding her hands fiercely.

“Yes. I know what it’s like to want something. But I also understand that I can’t always have what I want. That is not how the world works.” She exhaled harshly, frustrated with his seeming innocence. 

“Not in this world. In this world, were all still lost boys. And boys get what they want. That’s the great thing about Neverland, you don’t have to worry about those boring adult problems, and everyone gets what they want here. Me most of all. And Wendy, my little girl, I’m going to make sure I keep what I want too.” The threat hung in the air, this was promise she swore to herself she wouldn’t let him keep.

He returned to his chore, having decided the conversation was over. As he finished with each wrist he would trail his fingers up hers, as if seeing if her hand would rest comfortably in his, as if she were comfortable with his touch. She withdrew them before the contact became too much for her to handle. After he cleaned her leg cuts he looked at her. She was still clutching on to the shirt that covered what was left of her modesty.

            “Lean back.” His voice was soft, but utterly commanding. She found it hard to refuse when he said something with such authority, and when his green eyes pierced hers into obedience. She obliged, simply because she knew he held the power and that he could do as he please and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He moved the torn shirt aside and took extra care with the welts that cover her stomach and the top of her chest. His cool fingered prodded her rib cage, checking for breaks and he exhaled slightly as he found none.

            She leaned her head back as he brought the cloth to her face and dapped lightly on the cuts that dotted her scared expression. He used a few fingers to push her face this way or that along her jaw and let them linger on her skin before moving on to the next cut he thought to treat. She closed her eyes as he dapped a gash on her brow, and after she felt the cloth move away she opened her eyes to find his face inches from hers. His other hand was placed on the wall behind the couch and his knee was on the cushion next to her leg. Wendy felt her breath quicken as he set the cloth in the dirty water and brought his hand back up to her face. Their breaths mixed and she inhaled his sent, minty with a hint of pine, foresty and slightly sweet. Like sugar or honey.  There was also the faint touch of tabacco in the undertones, she surely only smelled dried blood, grim and maybe the faint sent of her lavender perfume. The sensation of light brushing from his fingers filled her with utter horror and she cringed inward, it didn’t seem to bother him as he studied her face and ran the pad of his thumb over her swollen bottom lip, before leaning in and placing a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

            “Would you like to shower?” He asked, standing and taking the bloody water over to the kitchen to dump it.

            “Yes.” Her voice cracked, her throat hurt from so much screaming earlier on.

            “This way, there’s a bathroom connected to my room.” He held out his hand to her, she put her feet on the floor and attempted to stand before almost collapsing on the floor. Peter’s arm caught her and she hissed at his contact with her bruises. He easily lifted her up into his arms again and carried her down a steep hall until they hit the bottom of the tree, she guessed.

The room was massive, there was a table and another throne at the head of it, a large canopy bed that was crafted from vines and tree limbs with furry looking blankets and sheets covering it. There was an array of doors going off of the main room, bookshelves and an electric fireplace with two old looking chairs on the other side of the bed.

He led her to one door near the fireplace and opened it to a small bathroom, it was simple, with planks for the floor, covered only by a little mat and a bath-fitter tub/shower and a toilet. Someone had set fresh towels on the toilet seat and she even noticed some clothes ready for her next to the sink.

            “Do you need help showering?” He drawled from above her. She could hear the smirk in his voice. Wendy wondering if he would insist considering she could barely stand on her own without swaying, but she took her chances and decided to decline him. She turned her head and, once again, found her face uncommonly close to his, and, once again, she inhaled that strange sent that was Peter Pan.

            “I’ll manage.” She choked as he set her down on the hard floor, she grabbed the sink for support before he closed the door.

            Wendy felt the sobs coming as her breathing turned heavy, she took a step and wavered the world in front of her eyes spinning for a moment before she regained control.

“Breathe. Breathe, Wendy Darling. Dammit.” She said allowed to herself. Her grip on the sink was turning her knuckles white, so she let go and made a second attempt at movement. The floor was easy enough to manage as she stumbled her way to the shower, her weak fingers turned the nozzle and warm water started spewing from the small faucet above her. It smelled slightly of the ocean, _We must be near the shore,_ she thought as she turned the water temperature hotter. Wendy reached around painfully to undo her bra, it was more difficult than it ever had been before, and let it fall to the ground, it was muddy and had blood dotting it, she kicked it behind her as she pushed her shorts and underwear down before stepping out of them and into the searing water.

 She let the boiling rain pound on her back for a while, kneading away the bruises and memories, before the sobs took over and she heaved forward into wrenching cries that she was sure could be heard throughout the entire complex. Her hands found the floor of the tub and she sat down in the water, letting it wash away her pain. It burned her skin and distracted her for the moment where she was. Wendy closed her eyes and imagined the feeling of her slick black and white wall tiles, the sound of John blasting horrible music in the next room and Michael crying for John to unlock his door so he could play with him. She tried to imagine her mother knocking on the bathroom door, and in her sweet yorkish voice telling her that she had to be at school in twenty-five minutes and that the tea was ready to go. She tried to think of her father muttering as he walked by the bathroom door, and tripping like he always did on one of little Michaels toys, she almost laughed at the memory of him spewing a curse before Mrs. Darling would shush him and tell him to not say such things in front of the baby. She tried to take herself home.

            But it didn’t work. She grabbed the only bar of soap she could find and scrubbed it all over herself, letting it sting the open wounds and clean away the grim from the dank room they’d beat her in.

 _Why me?_ It seemed like such a generic question to ask. But it was all she could think, they were the only words in her head. Repeating and repeating as if she’d forgotten every other word ever spoken. _Why me? Why me? Why me?_ Fresh tears mixed with the hot water and she gripped the soap tightly. Her hand scraped it through her hair and raked her fingers behind it in an attempt to rip the knots apart in the blood-matted locks that felt dry and cracked even in the hot shower. Wendy noticed that the bar of soap smelled like honey, it explained the strange sweet smell he had to him. The thought of Peter Pan washing with honey smelling soap was amusing enough for Wendy to allow herself a small smile as she set it down on the rim of the tub.

            She stood and turned off the water, the hot shower having returned her to her wits somewhat and it had dulled her pain in a way. The towels were soft on her ragged skin and she dried herself quickly. The clothes he had left her were simple, they included underwear that she slid on, it seemed new and right out of the package, a bra that was thin and had no padding or wire, she also slid that on. It was comfortable enough, but the thing that bothered her was the nightgown. It was a simple blue that had a pull tie at the waist. The nightdress hung loosely on her thing frame, but she pulled the ties and it secured around her waist, it only reached down to her mid thigh. It made her feel exposed, which she guessed was the point. She was in thin fabric and nothing belonged to her anymore. Wendy let a small cry escape her lips as the realization of the situation sank into her bones.

            She was _property._ He took away her ability to fight back, her clothes, even her smell belonged to him. She recognized the game, it was all a ploy leading strait to Stockholm syndrome. Let her be damned if that happed to her. Small fists curled as she tried to slow her heartbeat. Wendy wanted to open the door and run as fast as she could and as far as she could. _I’d rather die._ She thought maliciously. _No… wait. I don’t want to die. I just want… I don’t even know…_

            The mirror was foggy from the hot shower, but she swiped a hand over it to allow her a look at her reflection. Her skin was paler than it’d been that morning. And she had multiple cuts on her face, a few on her cheek, one on her lip and one on her brow. A fresh bruise was starting on her cheekbone itself and one eye seemed as if it’d be black by tomorrow. She refused to even start to look at her neck.

            She took the tube of toothpaste on the counter and squeezed it on her finger, not wanting to use Peter’s toothbrush. Wendy rubbed it through her mouth, trying to get the metallic taste of blood out of her gums.

            After she’d finished she put her hand on the doorknob, unsure if he should try and stay in the bathroom for as long as he would let her. But she knew that she’d have to come out sooner or later, so she mustered up her courage and twisted it open.

            Peter looked up at her from a book on his lap. He smiled with a wicked glint in his eyes as he overlooked her washed state. He stood from one of the chairs that sat in front of the electric fireplace. Sauntering over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder he inspected her shaking form, she flinched at his grasp but he gripped her in place.

            “Blue in a nice color on you.” He smiled down at her. She nodded in response, and tried to back up or something, anything to free herself from his touch. “Why don’t you climb in bed and get a good night’s rest.” He pulled her towards the giant bed, a bit roughly, and pushed her down on it.

            “I… er… I don’t know.” She started to say quietly, before he shushed her with his finger on her swollen lips and bent to swing her legs up onto the bed. Wendy held still as he pulled the covers over her and tucked her into the furs. She had just started to realize that it was _cold_ in there. Unusually cold for Portland at this time of year. _We’re definitely close to the shore._ The blankets were very soft and comfortable, so comforatable that she couldn’t help but relax into them and let their warmth leach into her shivering skin. Soon her eyes became heavy and the glow of the artificial fire started to lull her to sleep. Exhaustion and pain, mixed with a relaxing shower and a snug bed let her mind drift into a half wakefulness that let her know deep sleep was coming momentarily, a sweet release to the pain she’d endured that day.

            And right before slumber enveloped her she felt an arm snake around her waist and pull her back towards a bare, skinny stomach. She felt his nose nuzzle into her hair and his leg sneak in between hers to lock her in place.

Wendy tried not to think about how warm his skin was, how soft it felt against her. That this is what the wanted, for her to associate him with comfort, not pain, and form an attachment to him. But she was too close to sleep to care and let the dull heartbeat of Peter Pan rock her into a forgetful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked this chapter :)


	4. Like Fine Wine Tastes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> start of a bit of naughtiness  
> beware ;)

There was no light in the morning.

Wendy stirred from a restful slumber to the same gloomily lit room, and to a foreign arm still slung around her middle. Panic raced through her veins as she squirmed momentarily in the tight grasp, his limb was unmoving and solid against her, and she couldn’t have wiggled out of it even if she’d had her full strength. _Damn you’re strong for someone so stringy._ She thought bitterly as she scornfully relented on her struggles against the embrace. Her neck tensed as she felt his breath rush down her spine from his sleepy exhale, it was warm, though it felt brisk on her delicate skin, still battered from the day before.

His leg was hitched in between hers, keeping her pressed against him effectively, and every inch of her touching him. She looked down at the weight of his arm on her stomach, it kept her arm pinned against her side, and his fingers aimlessly moved on her flushed skin. Her tired eyes followed the patterns on his wrist, the connect game helped her breath steadily. She tried to create pictures in the dots that spotting his hand and arm like cinnamon on freshly fallen snow. Wendy breathed slowly as she attempted to push down the thoughts that beat at her mind. She tried to forget that it was Peter Pan who held her, tried not to think how the embrace was almost nice, comforting in such an uncomforting place. Which is exactly what he wanted her to think, which is precisely why she shouldn’t think it. But telling herself not to think it couldn’t stop her from thinking it.

He moved slightly and she closed her eyes, to exhausted from the day before to give any more attention to what she should or shouldn’t be thinking. Wendy snuggled into the nooks he’d created around her, she could smell his soap on his skin, or if it was coming off her skin she couldn’t tell, it didn’t matter much though, he’d made the scents one in the same. The deep breathes of Peter washed over her hair, rustling it slightly with each exhale, but it was relaxing in a way. Wendy opened her eyes as she realized that she’d never been held like that before, he was the first boy to show her something more than admiration. Sadness filled her and she felt small tears prick at the corners of her eyes, it was pathetic almost. That the only person to ever want her was a psychopath, a deep part of Wendy smiled at the thought of being wanted even by Peter Pan, she told herself it is human, to want to be wanted. But her conscious self wanted to punch that little part of her for wanting to be wanted. By Peter Pan it was not acceptable.

Once again she closed her heavy lids in hope that sleep would overtake her bustling mind that she so wanted to shut off. Moments that felt like hours passed as she tried to lull herself back into sleep, but her mind refused to shut off, and in an unconscious lapse of judgment she rolled over and faced Peter.

 Her eyes shot open, but his remained closed, his soft breath lapped over her face, their noses almost touched. Somehow he’d let her twist in his hold, and she was now being crushed against his front like a child’s stuffed toy. _How appropriate._ She thought to herself sourly. But she dared not move in case he woke up to her, she didn’t think she could handle those bright, childish eyes boring into hers. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle that innocent face that belonged to the least innocent man she knew. Wendy realized she’d been holding her breath and she slowly let it out as she tried to make herself feel comfortable enough to sleep.

The gentle rhythm of his breathing and his heartbeat combined slowly started to lull her back into a blissful slumber, still wrapped in his lanky arms.

Wendy dreamt of an island in the middle of a sparkling sea, she let the stories from her childhood take to her mermaids and exotic people and pirates. She flew in her dream, she flew over the clear water and the green jungle, as if she was a fairy. Wendy soared over the high horizon and towards the stars before a hand grabbed her leg, pulling her down. She heard cannon fire. The hand yanked her sideways and over from the giant, black cannon ball that rushed past her. A flash of red hair swung under her and she felt bile rise in her throat as he pulled her back towards the island. _No! No! I don’t want to go back!_ She screamed at him, trying to kick her ankle out of his grasp. _No one ever leaves Neverland, Wendy Darling._ Peter’s voice called back with a menace in it that turned her blood cold. _No! NO! Let go!_ She begged trying to find purchase in the thin air, to fly home, to fly away from that terrible place. _You’ll be mine forever, Wendy Darling…_

Wendy woke up in a cold sweat, her heart raced faster than she ever could have thought possible. Her forehead rested against Peters, and as she vision focused she realized he was awake and staring right at her. His lively, green eyes searched hers for understanding of the bead of sweat that trickled down her brow and her frantic heartbeat that had no doubt waken him.

“Are you all right?” He asked softly, his voice sweet and genuinely concerned.

“Just fine.” She retorted quickly, her body squirming him his intimate embrace. She felt uncomfortable being entrapped in his arms, her chest pressing into his, her legs finding no where to go but to tangle with his, and her forehead resting on his.

“What were you dreaming about?” He pushed. His other arm snaked under her middle and wrapped up around her waist, resting on her hip, he used his arms to pull her forward, crushing her more deeply into him.

“That’s personal.” Her voice was barely a whisper, if she moved even the slightest bit her lips would brush against his. That was not something she ever wanted to experience. Wendy had no desire to kiss Peter Pan, nor did she want her first kiss to be a deranged, madman who kidnapped her.

“Tell me.” His nose pressed on hers. She felt it coming, his skin was hot to the touch, she could feel the blush on her cheeks.

“No…no.” She stuttered. His hands were on her back, trailing up her spine, underneath her nightdress, dancing patterns on her skin. And for a moment she wished that they’d met and had gone about a relationship in a normal way. But no. He had to go and kidnap her. Wendy felt a sudden rage at his inability to think ahead. Was he so confident in his Stockholm ability that he didn’t think to even try to woo her like any other girl? It could have been nice for her and him to get coffee, kiss a little, and go together for a while. She could see it all in her head as if it was a flash back to something that never was.

“Wendy…”

Peter was cut off buy the slam of the door. And she heard the rush of quick footsteps.

“Peter! Quick get up it’s important.” Tink’s voice resonated in the room.

He reluctantly pulled away, freeing Wendy from his hold for the moment, but his hand trailed lightly down her arm so he pulled her with him by the wrist. Tink’s eyes overlooked the unrequited couple and she smirked at Wendy’s obvious discomfort.

“What the hell is it Tink?” Peter asked his voice laced with a menacing annoyance. He propped himself up against the headboard and pulled Wendy to him so she was snuggled into his side. Her cheek was pressed against his bare skin and she attempted to pull way, but his hand held her steadfast on her shoulder.

“Hook want’s to see you. Now.” She tapped her foot and looked down at her nails, as if she wasn’t at all interested in who this Hook was or that she’d just interrupted Peter in his closing the deal.

“I don’t answer to Hook.” He snorted, looking off to the side. Wendy looked up to see his jaw grow ridged.

“Oh, I know that. But he’s busy the rest of the week and he want’s to work out who’s taking what territories this month at least. Says he’s sick of loosing men to the boys.” At that the corner of Peter’s mouth twitched up.

“Fine tell him I’ll see him in the theater, outside the tree.”

Peter let go of her finally and moved to get out of the bed. She watched him warily and stayed put. He wore nothing but tight briefs that showed the curve of his thin hips and strait legs. Wendy had to stop herself from marveling at the sweet freckles on his back and the bounce of his fiery hair, he was beautiful, which made it so much harder to hate him.

He dressed quickly, Tink threw clothes at him from across the room, pulling pants and a shirt from a dresser. Wendy watched her hands were clenched in the covers as she attempted to pull them up to cover herself in the thin fabric dress he’d given her.

“Watch her, will ya?” He asked as he ran a hand through his hair and straitened his worn out V-neck.

“Yeah, sure.” Tink responded, darting a look at the scared girl. “Did ya screw her last night?” She asked nonchalantly.

“No.” Peter shot her a look, and then smiled letting a light laugh fill the room. “She’s a virgin. Gotta be careful with those.” He said as he turned back towards Wendy.

“So I’m meant to be you whore.” The girl said flatly.

“No, god no. You are meant to be my anything and everything, my little girl.” He leaned his knee on the bed and was upon her before she could register. His hand grabbed the back of her neck quickly and tangled in her hair as he pulled her forward and into a kiss.

Wendy didn’t know how to react to the sensation of his lips on hers, it was electric and toxic all at once. She felt his deepen it and his other hand found her cheek as he savored the moment. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and allow herself to let the kiss happen, to sensationalize the movement of his lips against hers, to almost loose herself utterly in the mouth of Peter Pan.

He broke the contact and smiled at her, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before leaving the bed and smiling at Tink. She watched, almost stunned as he left the room.

“Oh, honey. Does he have it bad for you.” Tink said to the still shell-shocked girl on the bed.

Wendy was panicking. Because she’d felt something other than disgust. She’d felt something more than humiliation. She’d liked it, and that scared her.

“What do you mean?” She looked at the woman, her eyes were rimming with tears, what a pitiful sight she must be, she realized. Beaten bloody, bruised and shaking in a thin nightgown that barely covered her modesty, in the bed of her kidnapper. Her face red, her eyes threatening to betray her, a pitiful sight indeed.

Tink took two long strides and sat on the bed near her. “He likes you.”

“I get that. But… why did all this have to happen? Why couldn’t he just have… I don’t know.” Wendy looked down at her hands and twisted her fingers together.

“What? Taken you out on a date? Asked you to coffee? Been a normal boy?” Her tone wasn’t condescending for once, but wistful. “That ain’t how Peter works, he’s different… in the head, ya know? And when he wants something…”

“He takes it.” Wendy finished for her.

Tink looked around the room uncomfortably and bit her lip a little, Wendy could tell she didn’t like the conversation. That she didn’t like her.

“So, uh, tell me about your life, Wendy.” She pushed a strand of blonde hair back from her face and looked at the girl again.

“If you tell me why you’re in love with Peter Pan.” Wendy retorted quickly, without fully thinking about what she was saying. Tink’s face went red, beet red, and she looked away. “How the hell can you love that?”

“You don’t know him.” She wouldn’t meet Wendy’s eye.

“Tell me then. Please. I… I don’t think I’ll ever get out of here.” It tasted like vinegar to say it out loud. Wendy had let the thought cross her mind a few times, but she hadn’t said it, and saying it always makes it feel more real.

The woman laughed. “No… I don’t think you will either. But Peter is… I really can’t describe it… he’s magical. It’s like nothing can faze him. Nothing can bring him down, everything is an adventure.” Her eyes looked at the far wall as she spoke, as if she was looking into the past. “He’s a child, but that’s what’s beautiful about him. He draws you in and he knows how to work everything to make you want him just as much as he wants you. The moment he touches you… your heart is sold.” Tink stared at the wall for a few seconds before looking back at Wendy. “It’s already working, ya know. You’re already scared to leave this room. To be without him. I can read it on you.”

“No.” Was all she could think to respond with. Wendy turned her head away and pulled the cover up and over her head. She didn’t like what Tink was implying. That she would not only have to give up her first kiss to that monster but her virginity too. That everything that she was would meld into him like a cement mold. She shivered under the warm blankets.

Light shone on her eyes as Tink pulled the covers back and looked at her. She was sitting right next to her, Wendy could feel the heat of her legs on her hip under the furs. “I do see what he likes in you.” Her blonde hair was falling around her face, making her seem like a fairy of some sort, she had an iridescence about her that sent magical brightness throughout the immediate space that made up her aura.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pretty, you have lovely eyes and beautifully colored hair. So rich and soft.” She touched a strand that hung near Wendy’s ear. “Chesnutt, right? You’re skin is pale and clear, unlike his. Which is so spotted with those freckles, yours looks like porcelain or cream freshly poured.” Wendy sat up and looked Tink in the eye. Why was she doing this? What was her meaning? Why was she complimenting her? “Have you ever liked a girl, little Wendy?” She purred.

“Er. No.” Wendy’s brow furrowed. She was confused.

“Well, Peter is planning on taking your precious little virginity tonight. And after that you’ll be like putty in his hands. But you don’t want him to be your first. So just relax for a moment and I’m gonna show you something.” Wendy sat still, she was partly afraid and partly curious at what Tink meant to do.

The older woman pulled the covers back to expose the top of Wendy’s legs. She pushed up the thin fabric of the dress and placed her cold hand on Wendy’s thigh.

“Wait. I, er…” Tink shot her a look.

“Relax. Trust me.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Try for a moment.” Tink’s eyes probed her and waited.

“Yes. Fine. For this moment.” Wendy looked down, she didn’t know what else to say. She was scared of the inevitable and what could happen and what was most likely to happen. She was dreading another night in the place.

Tink laughed lightly and moved her cold hand up Wendy’s thigh. Her finger’s played with the side of the thin panties and moved up to her lower stomach, tracing designs on her sensitive skin. As quick as a cobra Tink’s other hand shot down and pulled her underwear down exposing her.

“What are you…” Wendy started, but before she could finish Tinks fingers were doing something impossible. They were dancing over the sensitive flesh that covered her center, they found this place that Wendy didn’t know existed and pinched sending a hot wave of pleasure coursing though Wendy’s tiny body.

As fast as they were there, they were gone.

“What the hell was that?” Wendy asked without breath.

“That’s how he’ll break you, sweets.” Tink answered while sliding off the bed. She stood and looked at the door, almost wistfully.

“You… you touched me.” The girl said with a small voice, if Tink hadn’t been listening she would have missed it.

“Yeah. It happens. Don’t think anything of it. Now you know what it feels like so you don’t act all surprised and give him a big head.” The older woman laughed to herself at some joke that Wendy didn’t understand.

Before Wendy could say anything Tink’s phone started going off and her attention was pulled from their conversation.

“Get up.” Tink said harshly, walking over to the dresser and pulling out a shift dress and throwing it on the bed.

“Why? What’s going on?” Wendy asked as she scurried to the edge of the bed.

“Pan wants to show you off, that’s what.” Tink spat at her. “Now put the dress on.” Wendy fumbled for the shift, some thrift store find, and slid out of her thin nightgown and pulled the dress over her head. It was a cream color with dark blue flowers on it, it made her feel like a little girl. _That’s all I am. His little girl._

When the dress was hanging on her thighs she ran her hands over it to straiten it, looking up she noticed Tink’s eyes on her. Resting precisely on the small molehills that made up her breasts.

“Hurry up, now.” Tink walked over and pulled at her arm, pretty roughly. Wendy stumbled behind her and outside the door. She followed silently behind as the green heels clicked in the cement halls that led to the giant room outside the plastic tree. Tink clacked through another opening and down a long hall that smelled like fresh air.

Wendy breathed it in deeply, it smelled like the shore, she could almost hear the waves crashing at the rocks. A vision of lunging into the cold water and letting it seep into her bones filled her mind. Suicide would be easy, but the attempt would be futile. He’d jump in after her, she decided, and then she could drown him. A smile painted across her lips and she found herself almost laughing to herself. Murder had never been something she’d thought she’d resort to, before everything that had happened, she’d thought she’d never be able to kill anyone. But if she got the chance, she’d kill Peter Pan. She knew she’d be able to do it, no matter how bloody, no matter how hard. She could do it if given the opportunity.

The silencing of Tink’s clacks brought Wendy back into the moment and she looked up just in time to stop herself from running into Tink’s back.

“Where are we?” She asked in a whisper.

“Just don’t say anything, okay sweets. We’re just gonna listen and see what happens.” Tink’s chipped fingernails tapped on the door and a moment later it opened. Wendy felt her limbs freeze, she didn’t want to be around others, she didn’t want to see the looks they’d give her. It was so much easier just to be around him, and even Tink was decent company for the situation. But the Lost Boys? No thank you.

“Come on in, Wendy Darling.” Tootles said from the other side of the door, Tink had already sauntered into the meeting room. It had used to be a movie theater, she realized. The red velvet seats were ripped and many were missing, the walls were peeling and some of the roof was missing. It was almost beautiful in it’s destruction. She followed Tootles down the dirty, carpeted aisle, recognizing for the first time that she wasn’t wearing shoes and her feet were freezing. As were her shoulders and everything else. Wendy’s arms crossed and she hugged herself, attempting in vain to get any warmth to her healing limbs.

The group was sitting in the front of the room, with a bunch of boys in the fourth and fifth rows, while Tink and three other’s were in the third while one red head popped out of the first. But that wasn’t the thing that interested Wendy.

Sitting on the edge of the stage edge was a tall man, taller than Peter, his skin was like melted, dark chocolate and his hair curled around his shoulders in ebony waves. He wore a maroon, biker jacket and black jeans with combat boots that buckled too many times. Wendy walked down the rest of the path like a ghost letting Tootles lead her into the second row, she sat in the end seat and he went to join the others in the third. The chair she sat in was barely standing and creaked loudly when she sunk into it. Almost all the eyes in the room jolted to her, Peter’s bright, green glint smiled at her, Tink’s judging, annoyance cut at her, but this man’s intense eyes seemingly burned her skin and she felt the heat fill her cheeks, sending throbbing pain to the bruising on them.

He had blue eyes, lively and striking that contrasted against his impossibly dark skin. He mesmerized her, as had Peter. But Peter was generic compared to him, he was mystery embodied and that thrilled her. She let herself imagine him as a great hero who had come to help her escape from the evil child that held her captive.

“Eh, Hook. You can look but don’t get any ideas.” Peter’s voice filled the space as the man’s eyes snapped back to him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Pan. You need more faith.” He said with a deep, slightly southern voice. It sounded like fine wine tastes.

“Faith? In you? What have you been on, Hook?” Peter scoffed at him, lounging his legs over the side of the seat to his left.

“Too many things, boy.” Hook’s eyes darkened and he shot another glance at Wendy. “So who’s the new pet?” He spat the last word like a curse.

“Name’s Wendy Darling, isn’t that cute? Darling. Picked her up downtown, in the uppity part of town.” He looked over at her, Wendy raised her chin and stared him down.

“You took her… God, Pan, how old is she?” Hook asked staring at the boy, his eyes were blackened by disgust.

“Sixteen. I’m sixteen.” She said, all the eyes in the room looked at her. Wendy felt herself sink into the seat and she brought her shoulders up. She hadn’t appreciated being talked about like she wasn’t there.

The man stared at her, his face wasn’t angry or hungry in anyway, it only spoke pity.

“Pan. Are you mad? She’s… she’s just a girl.”

“Well, that’s all we are to you, right? Boys and girls?” Peter spat at him sitting up in his chair and putting his feet one the ground.

“This is bad, Pan. Even for you.” He hopped down from the stage and sauntered over to Wendy. She stared up at his face and felt her heart rate race in her chest as he raised a hand to her. Her small fingers rested down on his as he helped her up and walked her up in front of Peter.

“Everyone out.” Peter commanded to the room. And in a heartbeat the room was empty besides the three of them.

“How much did you beat her?” Hook’s voice cut into the fresh air like a knife.

“I didn’t, that was up to Tink.”

“Who I’m sure was thrilled that you decided to bring someone new into your fucked up bed.” He let go of Wendy’s hand, and she almost reached for him again. She felt safe when he had hold of her.

“Don’t spit at me like that, Hook. Like you haven’t had a hand in those girls on the side of the road a few blocks up.” Peter moved behind Wendy and placed his hands on her shoulders. She tensed visibly and Hook’s eyes scanned her again as if he had ignored the comment, resting momentarily on each and every bruise or cut.

“You didn’t have to let the bitch beat the living shit out of the poor girl.” He said taking a step forward and lifting Wendy’s chin up so he could examine her face.

“Hey, don’t touch her.” Peter said with a familiar menace lacing his voice.

“I should be saying the same to you, Pan.” He snapped back.

“Are we done here? I have business to attend to.” She felt him press up behind her.

“Don’t do this, Pan.”

“What do you care?”

“I just do. I mean, really, look at the poor creature. She’s fucking terrified of you and she’s freezing. You don’t even seem to care that she’s on the verge of tears.” He was starting to take off his jacket, sliding his arms through the holes and letting it fall off his shoulders. He held it up to her.

She felt Peter stiffen behind her as she reached up to take the offering, her eyes met Hook’s and she tried to show him all the thanks she dared give as she clasped the soft leather in her weak hand.

He watched her slide it over her thin arms and around her shivering body, she pulled away from Peter to get it all the way on. It was way too big, but it was warm and smelled like the ocean, salt and storms and hit of jasmine clung to the inside, near the neck.

“Thank you.” She whispered. Peter seemed not to care as he wrapped an arm around her stomach.

“Now get out. We got everything figured already.” She heard the threat in his voice and her heart clenched. She didn’t want the nice, dark man, who cared, to leave her in this hellhole.

Hook looked at her and must have seen the desperation in her eyes.

“Pan…”

“Out.”

She silently pleaded with him to do something, her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, ask him to stay or ask him to take her away. He looked back at her with a distraught expression across his handsome features, his arm raised a little, with his had fisted, as if he meant to fight Peter.

But he looked at Pan and nodded, but before he turned to leave he stole another glance at Wendy and she let herself think she could see one thing in his eyes.

Determination. 


	5. Forget Them All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. You've been warned.

The room was empty save the two of them. She listened to the faint sound of water crashing against waves outside the far wall. The air tasted salty, the dampness hung on each breath, like a blanket over the atmosphere entering her lungs. It made her feel heavy and weighed down. But it gave her strength, a sense of solidarity.

Peter watched Hook go, she could feel his eyes probe the small opening the older man had left out of. His arm tightened around her and she held her breath. She also followed the tall mans exit with her eyes, she smiled slightly at the way his steady steps left a reverberating sound in the large room.  

“Are we by the water?” She asked with a little more gusto than usual, trying to break him from the tense moment he’d had with the captain.

“What? Oh, yeah. The shore’s right out there.” It broke and the room relaxed, he slouched a little without the threat of an enemy nearby. His arm lifted and he pointed to the far wall, to the sounds of the waves. “You thinking about swimming away? Hm, little girl?” He turned his head over to her temple and his lips caressed the sensitive skin.

A shiver ran down Wendy’s spine at that uncomfortable nickname and contact. “Maybe.” She answered honestly.

“I’d catch you.” He laughed, phrasing the threat like a tease. But it felt more real than she could comprehend and her bones turned to ice.

“Oh, I know. I just…” Her voice caught in her throat. Tears started down her face and she silently cursed herself for her weakness.

“Come on. I have to get some things done. Games to play.” He pulled her with him, but her heart ached for the sea. For a sweet release of salt in her lungs.  

Peter led her out of the theater and back into that dank hallway, but the warmth of the coat helped a little against the damp coolness. She was still shivering with her bare feet exposed to the harsh floors, but at least she had the comforting sent of jasmine and a small possible fantasy of a tall, dark man coming to save her where she couldn’t save herself.

That bothered Wendy, she couldn’t save herself. She couldn’t be her own knight in shining armor bursting through the wall on his noble steed. She was stuck.

“Isn’t this place great, Wendy?” Peter asked, pulling her from her thoughts. Wendy nodded absentmindedly. She watched him frown out of the corner of her eye, he could tell she wasn’t happy or willing and that bothered him. Which she didn’t understand considering everything he’d done to her.

They strolled down the decaying hall for what seemed like twice the time it took her to travel to the theatre.

“Peter! Peter!” One of the lost boys called to him from the opening in front of them.

“What is it Nibs?” Peter asked, annoyance lacing his voice.

“The Chief cancelled the meeting, put it off till tomorrow.” The boy said looking up at him with bright eyes. He couldn’t be any older than John, still green in his innocence. Wendy looked stricken by the child in front of her. He didn’t have a chance, he was doomed by Pan to live his life as a criminal.

“What news!” Peter hugged the poor girl around the waist even tighter. “Now we have the whole day to play games, Wendy Darling.” He whispered in her ear. She knew her eyes lit up with terror and she hoped the small boy didn’t notice. But she was sure Peter felt her tense, and reveled in it.

“I’ll go tell the rest of the troops, anything else?” Nibs asked with that childish smile.

“Nah, just go have a day off. Tell the boys they can ask Tink if they need anything. I’ll be busy.”

The threat hung in the air like a dense fog.

******

They made their way back to the bedroom from the night before. He tugged her to the bed and pushed her down. She sat up and stared at him with a child’s terror written on her face like depressed poetry.

“Take that thing off, will ya?” He almost snarled at her. She was reluctant and clung to the reddish leather that hugged her chilled skin and calmed her frayed nerves.

“Take the fucking thing off!” He took two steps and he was there right in front of her, he ripped the jacket off of her, and flinging it too the other side of the room. The sharp tug tore her dress in the process, it hung off her shoulder, new tears fell from her swollen eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak on ya.” He touched her bare shoulder gently, and pulled down the other side of the dress so it barely still clung to her.

“Peter… I… I don’t…” Wendy couldn’t form words, her mouth was dry and she felt cold and hot all at once. He frightened her, utterly terrified her. But he also excited her and thrilled her beyond compare.

“You’re a virgin, right?” He asked lying down next to her. She turned to see him staring at her, his eyes dissecting every part of her beaten body.

“I am.” Uncontrollable shakes were reverberating through her body.

“Have you ever done anything?” His hand had found it’s way to her side and was toying with the hem of her dress.

“No.”

“Nothing at all? Like have you ever even touched yourself?” He sat up quickly and grabbed her other side with his other hand, locking her in front of him.

“No…no I haven’t.” His eyes were too green. They trapped her in a storm of childish wonder, like the color of evergreens and summer’s grass all in one.

“So you’ve never, well, come?” He laughed, his breath smelled like apple and a hint of mint.

“Er… no.” She pulled back, but that caused him to yank her to him so their bodies were pressed against each other.

Peter laughed again and pushed her back, she fell into the bed and looked back at him before getting up.

“Take off you dress, little girl. It’s time for some lessons.” He motioned with his head for her to stand. She obeyed. Her legs felt weak, and her hands were shaking as she started to pull the flimsy blue thing over her head. His eyes followed her movements, he sat with his legs wide open.

“Happy?” She asked with as much sarcasm as she could muster, but it sounded mostly fearful.

“Now the underthings, and make a bit of a show of it. Ya, know? Put some effort into it. It’s a game.” He leaned forward on his knees and watched her with a smile on his face.

Wendy tried to hide her horrified expression as she went up and pulled down one of the bra straps from her shoulder. She tried to pretend music was playing and she swayed her hips to the imagined song.

“Don’t be so tense, love. Here let me help.” He stood in a flash of red and green and his lanky hands pushed down on the straps at the same time. He slowed down as he started to push them down the rest of the way. “Why did you stop moving?” She returned to her swaying as he lighted pushed off the rest of her thin bra, exposing her small breasts to the cold room. “You can do the rest can’t ya?” He sat back on the side of the bed with that annoying smile and, to her horror, his erection was starting to become apparent under his jeans.

She reached down and took off her undies, not wanting to make herself even more uncomfortable by trying to dance through it. The bra came off with the rest, and she stood before him, completely bare and shivering in the chilly air. His gaze trailed over her, looking at her lumps of breasts, not yet fully grown, her little apex of curls in between her thighs and her small bump of a stomach.

“What a lovely little girl I have.” He jumped up and grabbed her by the waist, sitting her down where he had been and kissing her on the cheek. “My turn.”

Peter stood there for a moment just looking at her. He pulled his shirt off slowly, letting it pull on his hair and run over his toned stomach. She couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was, how beautiful his sharp features were and how pale the freckles made him look. He had numerous scars covering his upper body, like an ice rink. But she was distracted from his upper body as he slid off his pants slowly, taking his time with each leg, and then he moved to his briefs. She wanted to close her eyes as he pulled them off, and she started to. “Don’t you dare.” He whispered and she looked at him, bare as she. She tried to look at his face, but his erection was half hard in front of him, it was large, or so she thought and prominate in his longing. He walked slowly towards her.

“Stand up.” He ordered, she obeyed, trying not to think. It would be easier if she didn’t think. It wouldn’t be as real. Peter wrapped one arm around her waist, the other caught her hair and he leaned down into a passionate kiss. At first she was unresponsive but then her instincts took over and she opened her mouth to him and they melted into each other. She let her arms entrap him, tangling behind his toned back. It was nice to be held, to be wanted in such a primal way. It made her want him. He pushed her down on the bed and kissed down her neck in a whirlwind of energy. His teeth grazed her pulse point and sucked on her skin, Wendy felt a heat building in her belly, something she was unfamiliar with.

“Peter… wait…” His lips stopped and he leaned up to look at an out of breath Wendy.

“What? Aren’t you having fun?” His face was so young for a moment that she felt her heart clench.

“I… I can’t do this.” She tried pushing at him, to get him off her. He refused to budge. “I’m from relig… I made a promise… it’s not right… I’m young.”

“Sh, sh.” He pushed some hair from her face and moved off of her. His arms were still wrapped around her and he pulled her with him so they faced each other on their sides. His forehead pressed against her. “Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all.”

“But…”

He silenced her with a kiss and his hand found her breast. The expert and nimble fingers kneaded her chest and moved to pinching her perky mounds, eliciting a slight moan from her lips that she didn’t know she could make. He smiled and kissed down her neck, leaving love bites in his wake, carefully avoiding her already existing wounds.

Peter’s hot mouth latched onto one of her nipples, he sucked and flicked it with his teasing tongue. Wendy cried out, she didn’t recognize the sensation that created a knot in her stomach like she’d never felt before. Fire raced through her veins and lit her anew where every his hands touched.

“Oh, my… Peter…” She found herself saying out loud, gasping for his name.

It scared her. It all scared her. But in that moment, she didn’t care. She tried to forget. “Forget them all…” Trailed in her mind as she let go to the pleasure that was Peter Pan. 


	6. This Godly, Demon Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR DUB CON SMUT. PLEASE BEWARE.

The room smelled of passion, it smelled of him, hot and sweet and fresh like springtime. She writhed on the bed under his expert touch, cried out from his primal need to break her.

“Peter… please.” She whispered as he sucked on the spot right under her ear, his entire body pressed up against her like he was trying to mold them together. He had yet to touch the one place she wanted him to, he had yet to even start to journey down to the apex of her thighs and the center that was knotted so tight she felt as if she might break apart into a million pieces.

“Sh, little girl. I know.” His voice vibrated through her neck, sending another wave of need through her veins.

But before she could react he lifted himself off her and stood on the bed, he hopped down and looked at her, taking her in, all flushed and ready.

“Move back. There.” He pointed to the center of the bed. She obeyed and pulled her self back to the headboard. Wendy sat staring at him as he moved around the bed like a cat, him thin limbs quivered with toned muscle and his eyes drank her in with a hunger she’d never seen before.

“Wait…” She said suddenly. A fear crept up the back of her neck… she didn’t want to give him everything. He didn’t deserve everything. Not all of her. But a part of her wanted to trust him, let him comfort her and hold her. But she could see the selfish child in his eyes, lighting up each one of his steps like lightning.

“That’s cute.” He laughed getting to the edge of the bed, he was almost completely erect now, and his smile oozed a need that sent shivers down her spine. She wasn’t quite sure if the shivers that ran through her body were from need or fear, and a part of her didn’t care.

“What?” Her voice quivered.

“That you think you can tell me to wait.” And with that he started to crawl up on the bed, giving her a full vision of him as a lethal feline. Wendy’s throat caught and she felt tears in the corners of her eyes. He was so much stronger than her, and the reality of the situation was that she couldn’t hope to stop him from getting what he wanted… whatever that was.

Peter’s hands wrapped around her bare ankles and pulled her down so she was flat on the bed, he pushed her knees up and apart, reviling her sex to his wide eyes. Wendy’s hands dug into the sheets of the bed, twisting them with a grip that could strangle. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself away, but the sensation of him lips on the inside of her knee shocked her back into the moment. She stared down at how his hands wrapped around her thighs and how his mouth trailed down the sensitive skin, how he kissed the individual stretch marks, the blemishes from growing that littered her skin like a map. It wasn’t until she watched  one of his fingers start to explore her folds that she realized she was breathing heavily. _Damn my body._ She thought _Damn my responses._ One finger entered her, her breath hitched and she held onto the sheets even tighter.

“How ready you are little girl.” He hummed as he dipped his head down and she felt the tantalizing impression of his tongue on her sex, lapping up and down, and then he reached the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Wendy moaned loudly when he started sucking and teasing her swelling nub. His finger started to move in and out of her slowly, as his other hand moved up to her backside to squeeze her ass and lift her up to him. She noticed when his finger stopped moving briefly as he added a second, it hurt a little for a moment and then became irresistible as he moved into her again. They stopped inside her and he curled them just right to make her scream. A beautiful sheen of sweat was now apparent on her brow. She could tumble over the edge at any moment.

Pan kissed up and over her mound, he nuzzled her belly button and kissed all the way up her chest, leaving love bites on each breast. His hands covered hers, forcing them out of the knotted sheets. When his lips met hers and he forced a unfathomable kiss and she could taste herself on him, feel the swelling in his lips, but he repaid her with biting and vigor in their lip locked embrace.

His one hand moved back to her breast while his other moved back down to tease her clit, he kept her on edge for an immeasurable amount of time.

“Peter…” Wendy’s voice was little more than a breath. It sounded almost like a prayer.

“What is it, little girl?”

“Peter… please…” She moaned out as he adding his fingers, his thumb staying constant over her pleasure.

“Beg me for it, beg me Wendy.” He leaned in and bit her ear lobe, tugging on it gently.

“No…” She exhaled. She would not give in that easily.

“Beg me.” He said into her ear.

“I can’t… but… oh…” Wendy writhed under him, her hips tried to buck up to meet his slow thrusts, but the weight of his body kept her down. She needed this… she needed the release that he denied her.

“Come on, little girl.” He laughed at her frustrated agony.

“Please Peter… please I need it… please…” She broke.

Wendy could feel him smile into her neck as he rewarded her with fast pumped and his thumb pressed on her clit, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure from her lips. “Say you need me…” His voice was getting ragged.

“I need you, Peter! I need you!” She screamed as he kissed down her front and started teasing one of her breasts with his devilish tongue.

“You want me.”

“I fucking want you! OH my! Please Peter!” Her hands moved to his back and gripped onto him for dear life as he pushed his fingers into her and pinched her clit, with one last swipe she plummeted over the edge, releasing a cry that slightly sounded like his name. The world went white for a moment and she opened her eyes to find him propped above her, an evil glint in his eyes.

Wendy felt disgusting, she tried to roll away from him, but he sat up, pinning her down underneath his hips. She watched, horrified as he lifted him his hand from her sex and sucked his fingers clean.

“You need me, Wendy Darling. You need me.” His face had no trace of laughter, it was only hungry dominance that was scrawled across his features like a bomb threat.

“I… I don’t… I…” He slapped her, right across the face. She let out a little scream has his large hand made contact with her already bruised face. “Alright… I need you. I need you like air. Please don’t hit me again.” Her voice was frightened and meek. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek softly, his hand brushed her sweaty hair from her face and he cupped her chin.

“You’re mine, little girl. You’re my little lost girl.” He resumed his passion in a deep kiss that rattled her bones. His arms wrapped around her and rolled her over she was laying on top of him for a moment before he rolled her back over and under him. She cringed in her mind as his hands kneaded at her ass and roamed the back of her legs. But everything else was forgotten the moment his fingers danced on her swollen clit again, he pinched it, causing her breath to hitch and her eyes to close.

“Are you ready?” He breathed in her ear, in his heated pleasure he sounded younger.

“I…” But before she could answer he slowly started to sheath himself inside her, she could feel him savoring every moment as a sharp hiss escaped him lips before he was completely surrounded by her. Wendy bit on her lip, even with her previous orgasm she was still extremely tight, and he filled her to a point she didn’t think she could handle. But his hands moved up on her back and he kissed her jaw and neck, trying to make it easier on her. For a moment she thought he couldn’t be a monster, no monster would treat her with such care and love. No monster would do this.

He started to move slowly at first, but then soon gained a rhythm, she liked the feeling, of him inside her and moans escaped her lips every time he hit to the hilt. After a while of rocking into each other Peter changed his position to take some of the weight off of her, and he pushed harder into her. Wendy’s hands wrapped under his arms and tried to grip on his back, when she found no purchase she did the only thing she could think of to steady her anger, at him, at herself, at the world and fate for putting her here, underneath this boy. This godly, demon boy.  So her nails scratched down his flesh, causing him to moan out with a hiss. He pushed pumped harder into her, his hips snapping against hers hard enough to bruise. 

Wendy felt him hit that part in her, and she felt her orgasm building, it reverberated through her in its anticipation.

“Scream. My. Name. Wendy.” He huffed into her ear, his voice breathy and rough. “You. Are. Mine.”

“Peter.” She cried out as her second orgasm hit her fully, making her clench around him so he followed after a few erratic thrusts with an exclamation of one word.

“Wendy.”

He rolled off her, kissing her lightly before moving to the side of the bed to sit.

They sat in silence for a while. She felt fresh tears fall down the sides of her face, she felt dirty and grimy. She felt like a plaything, like a part of his game.

“You’ll take these. I don’t need a kid running around here.” He put two pills on the counter, morning after pills she guessed. “I’ll have Nibs get you some water.”

“Peter…I…” She wanted to say that that should never happen again. She didn’t want it, and it wasn’t right. But the words froze in her throat as he looked at her, his eyebrow raised with a challenge. “Never mind.”

“Little girl, you were fantastic. So you know.” He reached down and grabbed her chin, pulling her into a soft kiss.

Wendy didn’t feel fantastic. She felt like property, like a whore, and worst of all…she felt like she was never going to get out of Neverland.  


	7. A Thimble

Wendy sat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were locked on some unreachable point somewhere on the raw ceiling as she tried to steal focus from her sore center. It hurt, she realized, it really hurt. It was like the cramps she got during her time of the month, which she’d only had for a year now, but more potent and sharp. Finally after what felt like hours of staring into the brown nothingness she forced herself up and reached for the pills on the side of the table. Peter had left a glass of water for her, she took a sip and winced, it tasted stale on her tongue but she braved the bitterness as she knocked back a pill. She didn’t know how long he’d been gone, time seemed everlasting in that little room with no windows or outside light. It could have been over a day now that she thought about it. The pill left a sour taste in the back of her mouth and she got up from the bed to brush her teeth in the makeshift bathroom of her first night.

Peter hadn’t come back yet. Maybe she’d displeased him in some way, in a moment of confused joy the thought crossed her mind of her being thrown to the waves after outliving her use. The night before it might have seemed sweet, a kind release, but now and after that… she didn’t know. She didn’t want to die, and being there for him, being his, didn’t seem so bad. It actually seemed nice, to be wanted and held and… loved? Did Pan love her? Wendy didn’t dare dwell on the question but a part of her ached to know, she now thought she knew what it was like to be loved. She now knew what it meant to be with another fully. But was it out of love that Pan did this? That was something she couldn’t answer and never wanted to.

She didn’t know if that could make it all bearable. To have his love and if she was able to give it back. Would that make it any better?

Her legs shook as she made her way to the bathroom, it had only been three days since he’d taken her. Surely the police were looking, her parents were looking and even her brothers. But they would have no need to look down here. Not in this wasteland of the downtrodden and the criminal.

As her bare feet hit the floor of the an idea came to her, what if she got someone to send a message to the police?  

Hook would do it.  She could get the strange Captain to do it, he hated Peter enough and she was sure he would do anything to rid himself of the little boy.

But should she? Should she rid herself of the evil, wanting boy who had wrung her of her pleasure in such an indescribable way? Wendy bit her lip and stared at herself in the mirror. The bruises that littered her neck and shoulders were a light purple, almost lavender on her soft skin. She hadn’t bothered to dress again, her clothes had disappeared and she hadn’t seen anything else in the room. So her underdeveloped chest rose with each breath, she exhaled with a tremble, whether from the cold or from fear she couldn’t tell.

The water ran lukewarm under her fingers as she splashed it on her face, it mixed with her tears and washed away some of the grime from the night before. She still smelt of sex and Pan. How could something that felt so wonderful be so wrong? She asked herself, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.

Rape is what she thought of, but was if really rape?

“Yes.” She said out loud to the dreary glass. Her reflection didn’t change, actually the entire room stayed incredibly still as if she’d broken something in time. For too many minutes she stared at herself. _Rape… He raped me. He took without asking and that’s rape… no matter how good it felt._ She thought painfully.

Wendy shook her head at the unresponsive reflection and went to turn on the hot water of the shower, there was a towel hanging up on a peg, most likely his towel, but she was beyond caring. If he could take her virginity, she could damn well take his towel.

He water felt numbingly good, it beat at her back, much like it had after her first trauma at he hands of Pan. She stayed under the hot wash for too long, her fingers wrinkled and her body shook from standing but she refused to get out. It wasn’t until she heard the door open that her breath hitched.

A flash of red hair near the curtain proved it was him, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the cheap fabric and he pulled it back slightly to stare at her.

“Hello, little girl.” He smirked, and let the curtain fall back closed. Wendy shivered in the too hot water, she wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to stay standing. The sounds of undressing came from the other side of the curtain, a zipper being pulled and yanking of fabric, sounds that otherwise would seem so meaningless and unimportant, but in the circumstance seemed like a thunderstorm in her ears.

The curtain pulled back again, but this time he slipped into the shower. There was dirt on his face and the tell tale stain of blood on his hands, she looked down at them.

“What happened?” Her voice was laced with more worry than she cared to notice.

“Don’t worry, little girl. Just a little straightening up around here.” He put them under the water and used his honey soap to scrub at the stains until the water ran pink down the drain.

Wendy stepped back into the bottom of the spray as he moved forward to clean himself. “Why did things need straightening?” She asked meekly, but her curiosity was too much.

“Lets just say… I don’t like it when my Lost _Boys_ start acting like men.”  He wasn’t facing her, but she could almost feel his scowl.

“You killed him?” Her words were soft, and she cursed herself for letting the thought escape her lips, but it fluttered none the less to his ears, even in the downpour of the shower.

Pan slowly moved to face her, she looked up and into his eyes, there was no fury in them though, not like she had expected. There was a pity, as if she was so innocent of the world. To his world at least.

“I did.” He started rubbing the soap over her shoulders. “As I do when it has to be done.”

“Don’t you care about them?” She asked, squeezing her arms around her middle tighter.

“I care about my main boys, I really do, but most of them are just pawns and pawns are disposable.” Her breath hitched as he focused on cleaning her chest, rubbing the soap gently over each bruise, whether old or new.

“Am I disposable?” She whispered.

He looked up at he with genuine disbelief. Never before had she seen his mouth hang open and his tongue be lost for words. Pan stepped back and stared at her, he set the soap down on the edge of the tub and reached out his arms to pull hers away from her body. Their hands intertwined and he looked down as if embarrassed at the thought, and instead of pulling her to him, he took a soft step towards her and looked into her eyes intently.

“Never, Wendy Darling. You are never disposable. Because you are mine and I… ” He stopped himself and leaned in to kiss her. Right before he went to close the gap he spoke. “Plus, one girl is worth twenty boys.” She dodged his affection by turning her head sharply so his lips landed on her cheek. They froze as contact was made with her skin that was not her lips, and she felt him pull away. One of his hands let go of hers and trailed up her arm and neck until it rested on her cheek and pulling her face back to look at him. It was hard to keep her eyes open in the falling water, but she forced herself to stare at him, to challenge him.

“What do you…”

“Don’t ask, little girl.” He warned his eyes darkening as he leaned in and held her head in place so his lips molded perfectly over hers.

“I will ask.” She as he pulled back slightly, her free hand coming up to press against his chest as her own form of warning.

“What do you want me to say?” He whispered leaning his forehead against hers, freeing her other hand and wrapping his arm around her waist, effectively pulling her towards him. 

“You know, little boy.” She said, her fear lacing her voice. He smiled at her little jab and his thumb ran across her lips, stopping in the right corner.

“You know you have a little kiss right here. Right in the corner of your mouth, a little kiss that I took. You gave me that kiss, Wendy Darling.”

“I didn’t give you anything.” She trashed in his hold until he let go and she stepped behind the spray of water, letting the fake rainfall separate them effectively.  “You took it all. You took my kiss, it wasn’t supposed to be you, it wasn’t supposed to belong to you but you took it. You terrible boy! You took something from me and I can’t get it back, I can’t give it to someone I love! YOU took that from me, that chance. And I will always remember it, always remember how you took it. TOOK it. It was never yours… it wasn’t supposed to be yours…” She started crying, soft sobs murmured from her lips, and he pulled her closed to him. Settling under his chin, as his one hand rubbed along her back in his attempted to comfort her.

“Sh, my little Wendy bird. Sh…” She felt him kiss her hair. Wendy bird? The name hadn’t passed her, but she didn’t feel like questioning it… given that his other nickname was more than unnerving.

“Why did you do that?” She dared to ask. “Was it just because you wanted to? Or did you…”

“Did I what?” His voice was muffled by her damp hair and the running water.

“Did you ever feel something for someone… or for me?” She asked quietly into the skin of his shoulder, her eyes staring at a collection of freckles on his collarbone. His body stiffened, and she prepared herself for the worst. Pan stepped back from her, to the other end of the shower, leaving her in a spray of rain that made the moment seem even more melodramatic than it needed to be.

“Never. The very sound of it offends me.” He leaned up against the wall and stared at her darkly, crossing his arms. Wendy moved from under the water and reached out, she took a deep breath and brought her hand to his face, as he had just done with her. “Why do you have to spoil everything?!” He slapped her hand away. “We were having fun, I taught you things, lots of things. What more could there be?”

“There is so much more.” She yelled at him, unable to maintain her quiet fear.

“What? What else is there?” He yelled at her, matching her confused rage, the sound of his voice pushed her back deep into the spray.

“I don’t know.” She dipped her head, afraid to say the word. “I guess it become clearer when you grow up a little.”

His head snapped up and he looked at her with all the malice he could muster in his rage. “I will never grow up. And you can’t make me.”

“Fine! Stay an insolent child for all I care!” She went to leave the shower, unable to look at him much longer.

“Wendy.” He grabbed her arm, gently. She knew that trying to escape him was useless. If he wanted her to stay, she would stay. 

“What’s so bad about it, huh?” She whispered as he pulled her back into the warm water.

“I will not be a grown up, to much work, not enough play.”

“But isn’t it a grown up thing that thing we did?” She challenged as he positioned her so her back was against the wall.

“No… it was an animal thing… a primal need…” He said between kisses on her shoulder and collarbone.

“I don’t understand.” She signed as his hands ran down her naked sides.

“I’ll teach you everything.” He whispered as he hoisted one of her thighs up and around his hip. She hissed, still sore from the night before. “Don’t worry, little girl, not until tonight. But to hold you over…” She felt his fingers run along her slit, but she was distracted by the sensation of his lips on her skin. His impossible lips caressing her skin like he owned her. Which he did. Shivers ran down her spin as she sunk into her fate, she gave into the ache in her belly and _let_ him own her.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine another hand, another face, but all she could see was Peter. Her breath hitched as he slid a finger inside her, his thumb ran over her swollen nub. Wendy cursed herself for her body’s responses. How could it betray her so? The knot in her stomach was tightening and she didn’t know how she could go on without him breaking it, breaking her.

“Does that feel good, little Wendy bird?” He asked in her ear as he was grinding his pleasure against her thigh.

“Mm….” Was all she could answer as he quickened his pace and added another finger to her sore center. But instead of the harsh bites from the night before he was kissing the corner of her mouth gently.

With one more swipe over her swollen pleasure his fingers had her crashing over the edge and into oblivion. Wendy sighed and leaned against the shower wall as he backed up and worked himself to finish in his hand.

“Ha, see? We’re going to just have fun.” She nodded and took his hand as he offered.

They stepped out of the shower and Pan helped her towel dry, he ran his hands through her hair and wrapped her in a thin robe he’d brought. Wendy looked at her self in the mirror and saw the flush of pleasure on her cheeks and the changing red headed boy behind her. He was beautiful, but he was a child and she was nothing but his doll.

“Come, little girl. I have something for you. Had the boys put it together.” Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her through the door, they left the grand bedroom and he walked her up stairs that curved around like they were going up a tower.

“How far up is it?” Wendy asked after what seemed like forever.

“Not much further.” He pulled her along by her hand now. After a few more steps they entered a little room. “It used to be the apartment of the guy who worked nights at the fun house, but we fixed it up and now it’s yours.”

The room was small, it had a little door off to the side that she guessed led to a bathroom. Blue sheets covered the iron, canopy bed that sat against the far wall, with large pillows and blankets piled at he foot. There was a dresser that had a candle on it and some nick knacks, the rug underfoot was woven in an oval with different whites and blues. But the grandest thing about the room was the massive window that looked out over the shore.

“Peter… why?” Wendy felt tears in her eyes, not from joy or gratefulness, but from terror. She was literally in a dollhouse. Nothing but a possession. How many girls had he put in this room? What number was she?

Wendy furrowed her brow momentarily in her confusion, an action that Peter hadn’t missed as he walked to face her.

“It’s for you. Wendy, it’s all for you. We built you a home here.” He played with a piece of her hair as he watched her. The lines of his face were wrinkled in frustration, he didn’t understand.

“How many others?” She whispered bravely.

Peter cocked his head to the side, he looked at her with confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“How many other girls have you put in this little doll house?” Wendy spat with malice. Her eyes had turned dark, she was sick of being weak, of having to listen and take him. Wendy was angry and she felt her strength build with her anger.

“None. Wendy, little Wendy bird…” He tried to touch her face but she slapped his had away.  Peter looked at his denied limb and his eyes became angry too, angrier than hers ever could mimic.

“Liar!” She pushed past him and stared out through the giant glass, to the sea and a free world.

“Do you not like it here Wendy?” He sounded as if he was actually surprised by the idea, his naivety made her blood boil under her skin. She wanted to slap him and scream and claw at his childish face. She wanted to make him grow up.

“No, Peter. I loathe it.” Was all she could say, she couldn’t even face him.

“You will.”

Wendy turned, her eyes were leaking tears that constantly streamed down her cheeks. She was never going to get out of there. Wendy wanted to die, she wanted to crash her body threw the window and let the glass cut her into a million pieces just so she wouldn’t have to endure this little boy for any longer. Because no matter how strong her will, no matter how strong her resolve to stay herself. Wendy knew that she would break under him, in more ways than one. She already had.

“I won’t… one day I may seem like I am happy here and… with you… but it will be a false joy. It will be you fucking with my mind. And my… my body. I, me, Wendy Darling, will never love it here. I will never love you.” Her hands were shaking as she spoke, he just stared at her, not making a move. Peter’s green eyes pierced her skin, they were so sharp and heated, she felt as if they’d flay her where she stood.

“I want to give you something.” He broke his demeanor and walked towards her as if she’d never said anything. His hand pulled something from his back pocket as he walked. Wendy didn’t have time to react as he stood right in front of her, uncomfortably close, she turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him directly.

“Peter, I don’t think you were…” He slapped her, the blow hit her hard, sending her reeling to the window. Wet tears slid down her face as she tried to process the moment. It was all just a game to him. She never had any real say, any real power. In the end she was nothing but a punching bag and a whore.

“This is for you, it’s a necklace.” He held up a pendent of some kind, it had a gold chain that was long, but short enough so she couldn’t slip it off her head and a black ball at he end. Peter stood over her for a moment before offering a hand to help her up, her cheek was still red from his blow but she could stand without wobbling.

Before Wendy could do anything he was fastening the pendent around her neck, his fingers brushed her hair away and were quick and nimble as they closed clasp.

“What is it?” She asked softly, rolling the black ball through her fingers. It was bumpy, with a cap of some kind.

“A black acorn.” He whispered as he ran his hands through her hair.

“Why?” She looked up at him only to meet him lips as he collected a kiss hungrily. Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her gently. He carried her to the bed and they relaxed on the too comfortable mattress with his arms still slung around her possessively. 

“It’s my calling card, it’s my claim.” He took the acorn from her and played with it as his other hand stroked her bare arm. “But with you, Wendy bird, it’s going to be ours, to claim you and you to claim me. It’ll be our kiss.”

Wendy’s brow furrowed, he was just covering up the fact that he literally has laid a claim to her now, that he sees her as a possession. But another part of her sees his childish liking, she can see he really does like her. The problem with trusting Peter Pan is that he can seem so genuine, when he is just playing his own game to get what he wants. And Wendy isn’t even sure what that is anymore.

“Shouldn’t it go both ways?” She said into the side of his boney chest.

“Hm?”

“Shouldn’t you wear something that’s from me? A kiss is both ways.” Her logic was most likely to be lost on him, and she had nothing to give. But maybe it would be an excuse to not touch him for a few moments.

“You are a smart one, Wendy bird.” The feeling of his lips on her hair was an odd sensation in that moment, part of her wanted to cringe away and go scrub each and every hair until there was no trace left of Peter Pan. Another part of her wanted to let him kiss her, and kiss her all over until she was devoured by his hungry kiss.

Wendy smiled and slid out of his grip, surprisingly he let her, her bare feet took her across the plush rug and to the dresser. She looked at all the nick knacks and tried to find one she could give him. Her eyes found a sewing box, it was beautifully made with intricate design of the night sky and a clasp in the shape of the moon. The shaking in her fingers made opening the small box more difficult, but she managed after a few tries and peered into the little chest. There was a needle, some thread, some pins and a thimble. A thimble. Her fingers met the bumpy surface of the small dome and she slide it on her index before turning back to the bed.

He looked at her expectedly, a broad smile strewn across his face as she scampered back to the waiting warmth in the sheets.

“A kiss.” She handed him the thimble and he played with it in his fingers. Peter’s smile in that moment wasn’t anything malicious or playful… it was something real and mature. The curve of his lip up just slightly and the bright shine in his eyes was so much louder than his large childish grin. For a split second Wendy saw the grown-up this boy could be, with all the grown-up baggage that she felt they already possessed.

“You’re my perfect little girl, Wendy bird.” He whispered into the nook of her neck after pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Peter, look at me.” She was surprised by the demand in her voice.  But he obeyed and she squirmed so their faces were only inches from each other.

“What is it?” Skin pressed to skin as his forehead touched hers.

“If… if that’s our kiss… than what is this?” Wendy forced herself to peck his lips, just barely so he knew what she was talking about. She just wanted to keep him occupied for a few more moments before the inevitable happened.

“I… I guess… uh…” Soft laughter filled the room.

“A thimble.”

“Hm?”

“Peter Pan, I’m going to give you a thimble.” She leaned in and kissed him, a primal part of her awoke in the moment her lips touched his. In reality she felt an insane attraction to him and wanted him like water in a desert even if her logic stopped her from showing it or thinking it. But inevitably, she did want him. Hands raked up her back and pulled her thin robe from her clean skin.

Wendy did the only thing she could to have any hope of keeping her sanity at least for another night. She lost herself, tangled her limbs and shut off her mind, wholly and utterly in the sensation that was Peter Pan. 


	8. If Looks Could Leave Bruises

Wendy awoke to the cool air of the small room and the loneliness of an empty bed. She looked around the room, finding no sign of Peter, almost thinking she’d dreamt him for a moment. The silence was deafening, yet she was stuck in it, unable to move and the light of the dreary day was shining into her simple little cage.

Hours passed as she sat, holding the sheet over her chilled skin, staring at the door and waiting or looking to the windows for some holy intervention. She never believed in something higher, but sometimes the only thing you can do is pray. Wendy felt tears slide down her cheeks until they dried in the staleness of her loathing. Maybe it was love instead, and they dried simply because she felt no need to cry anymore, no need to wish for death or freedom. Peter had become somewhat of a home. A horrid, painful and confusing home, but also one of pleasure and caring and feeling. She had been so starved of feeling all that time before, even if it had only been a few days, it felt like ages. That scared her more than she could fathom, how much he’s dug himself into her, how much she felt like she needed him. As if a millennium had come and gone in this Neverland.

Food was brought three times a day, she’d found some clothes in the drawers and she entertained herself anyway she could. Peter visited almost every night and sometimes came in the day to talk to her. He would rave about his conquests and deals. She was getting to know more than what was healthy for her to know about his operation. But he seamed to not care as he bragged. In the mornings he was always gone, off to steal and maim or whatever he occupied his time with. She relished her meal delivery, it gave her a chance to interact with someone other than Peter. It kept her semi sane. It was usually a different boy each time, but one in particular had come a few times. His name was Slightly, a small thing with shaggy brown hair and very tanned skin. Whether from the sun or dirt, Wendy couldn’t tell.

On the tenth day Slightly was bringing in her lunch when she finally got the nerve to stop him from leaving. The boy couldn’t be more than twelve. John’s age she thought solemnly.

“Boy, how old are you?” She asked, keeping him in the room.

“Peter won’t like my being here.” He looked around and up into the corner as if there was a camera. “I’m eleven… I think.”

“You think?” Her voice was a little more demanding than she was used to.

He nodded and looked to the ground as if ashamed. “I’m an orphan… I… I don’t know my birthday, don’t have any records or anything. They were all lost in the fire.”

“That story’s true then?” Wendy sat on the trunk that lived at the foot of the bed and he sat next to her.

“True?” Confusion was strewn across his features.

“That Peter burned down the orphanage?”

“No, oh, no. Wendy Lady, no. One of the nuns had a heart attack while on night watch, as Peter says, they were understaffed and the fireplace caught on her papers she’d dropped, which caught on the curtain. He saw it happen, he did.” Slightly seemed pleased with himself for telling the story so well.

“So did everyone get out?” She asked quietly, maybe he wasn’t so awful. _Shut up! He is the worst, most wretched boy to ever exist._ Her mind fought with her.

“Yeah, there weren’t that many of us, Peter was the oldest. He brought up here, to this place. It was abandoned and no one knows who owns it. We became the Lost Boys and have been ever since.”

Wendy looked at him with skeptic eyes, if that story was true then Peter was just doing what he had to so he and the boys could survive. But if the story that John had told her was true then he was the evil little monster that she thought he was. It was almost hard to hate him so much when these boys loved him with such loyalty.

Slightly’s eyes lit up every time he said Peter’s name. Like he was a god or a savoir to him… which in a way he was.

The door slammed open with a loud thump and the room seemed to shake as green heels clanked on the wood floor.

“Hey, kid. Peter is having a meeting and you’re late.” Tink said with a bitchy quip.

“Yes, oh, sorry Miss Bell.” He scampered out of the room so quickly that Wendy barely saw him hop from his seat.

The older woman stared at her, the green heels were taller than any shoe Wendy had seen before and they helped Tink hold a strong stance that demanded the room. Suddenly, Wendy felt like an intruder in her own sanctuary.

“Cute, little cage.” Her voice cut like glass, as if she’d shattered all the windows with it.

“I works.” Wendy’s voice was curt and sharp.

That earned a loud hoot from the glaring bitch.

“What do you want, Tink?” Wendy matched her glare, and saw the surprise in her eyes when she realized that the meek little girl she’d beat bloody was no longer afraid of her.

“I just wanted to see why Peter is still keeping you locked up here like a little bird. A little bird in her little cage.” Her heels clanked louder and louder as she walked forward. Wendy kept eye contact as Tink slid her long fingers under her chin and forced her face up.

“I’m not a little bird.” Wendy sneered into the caked face that was only a few inches from her own. Her breath smelled like cherry medicine, and her eye shadow looked like it hadn’t been washed off in three months.

“You know, one day he’s gonna get tired of you. And that’s the day he’s gonna send you down to the Pixie Dust. It’s a little club I run across the street, I hope you can dance.” She smiled with her yellowing teeth.

“In your dreams.”

“You think you’re better than that, uptown?” Tink laughed, her open mouth flinging spit into Wendy’s face, her breath smelled like cherries and vodka. “Oh, you don’t think he’ll get tired of you? Let me tell you something you little cunt. He always gets tired of his little fuck toys.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?”

That earned her a hard slap across the face, it snapped her neck to the side and left her face searing.

“Listen here you little bitch.” Now Tink’s hand grasped her chin like iron. “Peter will come back to me, I am not used goods if that’s what you think. You’re just temporary. And soon I’ll have you chained to a stage as you dance for old men and then I’ll let them fuck you.”

“Like you let them fuck you?” Another smack let her other cheek stinging.

“I make money. I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions. Not a stupid little girl who just learned what a cunt can do.” Wendy felt the long fingers move from her neck to the nape of her neck. They twisted in her hair and yanked her head back with a jolt. “Maybe when he’s done I’ll just take you. Yeah, I’ll take you and keep you in a smaller cage. All locked away for when I want a young, tight, little….”

“Tink.” Peter’s voice reverberated around the room. Tink’s hand immediately let go of Wendy’s hair, her breath let out with a huff as she brushed her short skirt off, as if she was trying to get Wendy’s essence off of her.

Peter stood in the little doorway, his face dark as he stared at his companion. Wendy stood and walked to the window, not wanting to look at either of them.

“Go.” Was all he said.

“Peter…” Tink’s voice sounded younger, so unlike the bitchy drawl she’d used just a few seconds ago.

“Now.” And with that she swept out of the room, hitting his shoulder a little on the way out.

The glass was cold on her fingers, she could feel the fog of her breath run over it like a cloud, turning her vision blurry and the waves into nothing but blue mist. Arms wrapped around her middle from behind. Wendy’s body screamed, she didn’t want to be touched, she didn’t want to be there, she didn’t want _him._

“I’m sorry about her, she won’t come up here again.” His breath was hot in her ear as he kissed the side of her neck.

“What difference does it make?” Wendy didn’t have the patience anymore to deal with their fucked up relationship.

“And by that you mean?” His voice had an anger to it, calm and controlled, but it was there right under the surface.

She sighed and pulled from his grip, walking to the dresser, she pulled out a new shirt and slipped it on over the little night slip she was wearing. It was like his eyes had hands, even when he wasn’t touching her she could feel them on her. If looks could leave bruises she’d be covered head to toe. “Do what you do. If you could hurry up the disposal system that would be great... I’m a little tired of being dragged along when I know all you’re going to do is throw me in a whorehouse.”

“And where on earth did you get that idea, darling?” His words cut like ice, she could sense the anger bubbling.

“Tink’s right, isn’t she?” She kept her voice steady, not willing to make it meek around him anymore.

“I’m not going to…”

“Don’t lie to me, Peter. I don’t deserve that.” Wendy spun to face him head on, her chin held high and her eyes dry.

“In the past maybe I’d done it before. But not with you. Never with you.” He looked at her with an intensity that made her stomach turn.

“You’re lying.”

“I AM NOT.” He yelled at her with a strength that would usually make her cringe. But she held herself together, to her own surprise.

“I am nothing to you but a fucking doll, Peter! I won’t be your doll.” She stormed to the stairway and started walking down, pulling at the thing around her neck, wanting to take it off and chuck it into the ocean so his _thimble_ could drown like she wished he would.

“Wendy!” She heard the footsteps coming after her but she didn’t care, all she wanted was out of the small room. “Wait, come back right now!” His voice was angry, but there was amusement in it too, as if this was a game to him.

The hard floor felt liberating on her bare feet as she walked briskly through the little hallway, when she found doors she pushed them open with an angry might and opened her lungs to the fresh sea air.

Peter had to be close behind, he would have run to get her if he’d seen this as a real threat, but he didn’t see her as a threat at all. Wendy smiled to herself as she stepped out to the rocky banks of the Atlantic, maybe she could use that to her advantage.

Her smile widened into a large grin as she made a plan in her mind. Time for her to play the game. Time for her to win.


	9. Sea Salt and Scraped Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy has a brush with death. Peter cries. It's great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't posted in a while but hey college is hard. And my writing has gotten better. But here ya go.

Wendy breathed in the freshness, so different front he mildew smell of the abandoned building. She relished the sound of the waves, it was beauty, pure and whole and so close. It was freedom. The beauty of the noise was in the danger of their existence, so easily the water could smash her up against the rocks until she disappeared into a bloodily pulp, melting into one with the sea. And yet she was drawn to the waves like they were singing just for her, drawing her to her doom. The cold nothingness under the waves was calling her home. _The siren myths make sense_ , she thought with a laugh.   
Water sprayed over the jagged rocks, making patterns in the air every other second. Maine’s shores were no turquoise lagoon, they were expansive, black, dark and foreboding. They screamed and cried and beckoned her forward. She knew one step, one misplaced step, or perfectly placed, could land her on a one way ride to heaven. Or hell, depending on her judgment. But death was the weakness in her bones, she could get away if she tried, she could survive this hell on earth, this freezing, fiery cavern of misfit boys that she’d been dragged into. Sometimes trying was asking too much.   
“Wendy. Stop.” His voice was in her head, she couldn’t tell if it was her mind or the beast himself. Somehow she’d made her way down pier. Her feet were balanced on the edge, teetering back and forth like a pendulum. A strong gust could slam her beneath the waves, ending her nightmare. Maybe if she was lucky he’d jump in after her, then she could drown him. Or they’d freeze. Hell together wouldn’t be the worst thing, would it?   
“Wendy, step back. Now.” No room for disobedience. But the usual intensity in his voice no longer frightened her, she’d heard the soft whispers that voice could make, the light moans, the kind nothings. He was only half a monster to her now.   
“What will you do if I don’t?” She asked the waves, not really caring if Peter could hear her or not. Their cries, the smash against the feeble wood, created a hurricane around her.   
“I’ll drag you back. I swear I will.” He was so sure of his strength, of his words. They cut through the screaming salt water, hammering into her brain. But Wendy saw the truth in the dark waves that lapped over each other beneath her. There was no coming back from that dangerous dance.   
“You’ll die. I’ll die. It will be over.” She whispered lightly to the grey sky, tilting her chin up. This was it, she didn’t want to die, but if it meant taking her monster with her then she’d take the plunge. Her need for revenge was stronger than her will to live.   
Wind whistled through her hair, raking it backwards and she felt like she was flying, her balanced wavered slightly and suddenly a rock dropped into her stomach. Wendy tried to ignore the pulling at her spine, a natural instinct to move back, to shy away from death. But the sea spray stung her eyes so nicely, all she could smell was salt and oblivion, it was salvation, it was an ending. Just one step.   
Arms wrapped around her waist as her foot started to leave the damaged wood edge. He’d grabbed her before she’d had the chance to even feel the black waters close around her, numbing the ache and pains of the past weeks, freedom lost, salvation lost. Everything was lost in the millisecond it took for him to wrap around her and yank her back.   
They fell onto the dock in his heroic bravado saving his damsel. Wendy could feel splinters digging into her cheek as she was pressed face down on the rough wood, Pan’s whole body weight on top of her.   
“I told you so.” His soft voice breathed in her ear. It wasn’t a gloat, or anything menacing. It sounded like relief, she could feel the heavy beat of his heart on her back. The thump of fear and panic seeping into her skin. But there was no smile in his voice, just heavy breathing, harsh, hot breath sinking into her neck.   
“I hate you.” Was all she could say, but it didn’t sound sincere. Maybe she didn’t want to die, but now at least he thought she did.

Wendy’s feet were bleeding as he carried her like a bride back to the edge of the building. He tucked her head into the space between his protruding collar bone and his cheek. His skin was cold. After setting her down against the dreary wall, Peter whipped out his cell and called someone. He asked for bandages and medicine. She simply looked out at the waves hitting up against a boat in the distance, it was docked quite far away but still visible. She swore she could see a pirate flag waving in the wind above the cabin.   
“Peter, whats that?” She asked pointing at he lonely ship.  
He looked over, squinting his eyes and wrinkling his nose like he’d just smelled something foul. But he didn’t answer her.   
“Peter.” Wendy wiped her face with her equally as salty forearm and winced as the residue of sea water touched her cuts.   
“It’s Hook’s.” He said through his teeth.   
“The man from the theatre?” She asked innocently. Wendy remembered full well who he was. “He gave me his coat.”   
It was red, she could almost still smell the hint of jasmine that clung to the collar. God knows what happened to it.   
“He’s a thief and a liar.” Peter sneered. Someone had opened the door and walked out to them. A young boy, no older than ten, handed him a bundle and scurried away.   
“Not so different from you.” The comment felt good, like she now had the power to tell him what he was. She was no longer afraid of his anger. If Pan really held no care for her life he would have let her jump to her death, Wendy had the weapon now, she knew his weakness. He’d never lied about her, about how much he cared, and she could use that against him.   
“Don’t, Wendy.” He opened the bundle and set to work getting alcohol on a pad and wiping down her various cuts. They all stung, but Wendy kept her face neutral. She’d taken worse than this before.   
Laughter filled the hollow air, she was surprised to hear herself giggle at him. This ridiculous little boy who thought he was some force of good, refusing to see that those he believed his enemies were the same as him. She laughed in his face, her eyes felt manic, her body was shaking and she couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of Peter Pan.   
“Stop!” He looked hurt, like a baby animal, a little boy who got his lunch money stolen at recess. “Stop that right now!” She could almost see tears in his eyes.   
“Why?! Huh? Why shouldn’t I laugh at a stupid little boy who will never grow up? A chronic asshole who needs to be spanked! A little shit who ruins every life he touches!” She stands quickly, ignoring the spinning in her head. “You’re nothing, Peter Pan. You’re just a monster, a little boy who’s weak. Thats why you hate grown ups, you hate everyone because you’re just a scared little boy. A weak, scared, stupid…”   
The slap sends her face and body to the ground, slamming her already jared head on the cement wall, then the rough ground. She can feel the scraps on her knees, the wet, warm sensation of blood dripping down her skin. Wendy doesn’t let his outburst scare her, its not the first time his hand will leave and imprint on her skin.   
“See!? Scared, weak and pathetic. You can hurt me as much as you want. You know I can’t fight you. But do you every fight anyone who can? Huh, Peter? Think about that. How Hook could rip you apart in seconds, and how I’d watch. I’d laugh. I’d cheer.” Wendy pushes herself up letting her knees and raw feet rip against the pebbles, she no longer cares about pain. It only fuels her hate, her desperation.   
“SHUT UP!” Tragic tears ran down his freckled face like a ten year old boy. Wendy knew that taking away his favorite toy would turn him into nothing but a blubbering mess. She was his favorite toy, but some toddlers need to be taught a lesson. And if Peter tried to touch her again, she’d kill him.   
“Cry. Good. Die for all I care.” And with that Wendy started to walk away from him. “Don’t follow me this time, Peter. Just don’t.”   
Something in her voice must have made him listen, made him stay there next to the grey, cement wall and cry while she walked away with dry eyes.  
Not having any idea where to go she walked towards the boat. It was pretty far away but she didn’t care, she didn’t let the cool air bother her exposed skin, nor did she let the fact that her skin was so pale it was borderline transparent make her worry. She could feel the knots in her hair, how her once healthy body was withering away beneath her skin. The sight of veins didn’t phase her.   
After too many steps she arrived at the pier where the pirate boat sat, waving slightly in the water with each pull of the tide. The dock was better maintained that the one she’d almost used as her ledge. the water was shallower there, she could almost see the bottom and waves more green than black. She sauntered up to the stairs that connected the old boat to the dock, there were no lights on. She kept going over in her head how bad of an idea this all was, her feet rooted in place. She should have gone to a police station or a public place. Hook was most likely just as horrible as Pan, if not worse. _But nothing could be worse than Pan_ , she thought, and she somehow needed protection. What was to stop him from going after her family or brothers if she found her way home?   
“Hello, Wendy Darling.” His voice melted her bones, she felt weak, like all the stress was seeping out of her pores and onto the dock. A shadow blurred in her vision, standing on the landing. Wendy’s legs turned to mush and she felt the world swaying, relief was coursing through her in soft waves, as if she’d been drugged. As her body gave up she heard soft footsteps and an arm wrapping around her waist before she could make contact with the warped wood underfoot. It was unfamiliar, not long and thin and cold. It was warm, strong and pulled her up in a cradle, he was careful to hold her away from his body. Wendy felt like she had reached the ground, she felt something solid in her belly. Something wonderful and beautiful. Light was shining through the clouds, cliche enough to make her smile before the world went white.


End file.
